Zip Your Lips
by financebabe
Summary: When Stephanie needs someone's help without her current situation being discovered, one of the guys has to disclose his secrets in order to protect hers. Then he is faced with the truth that once you fully open yourself to another person, it's not really possible to close things back up.
1. Roadside Assistance

_All the usual applies…not mine, all Janet's…bummer._

_Jenny (JenRar), here we go again. Thank you for working on yet another story with me. Your beta skills are beyond compare._

**Chapter 1 – Roadside Assistance**

"Hey, man!" Lester stood up and greeted me as I walked from the entrance of Shorty's back to the table where some of the guys were having lunch. He raised his fist, and I bumped mine against it as a hello of sorts. "We ordered some pizza, but I didn't know what you wanted, so feel free to flag down somebody and add your order to ours."

I nodded that I'd heard him, but didn't bother to act on it. Whatever they'd ordered was fine with me. I pulled the right hand corner of my bottom lip between my incisors to bite down until the urge to smile had disappeared. I'd long ago gotten in the habit of always ordering something different when I went to a restaurant. Part of it was because I liked eating different things, but mostly it was a skill that had been drilled into me by my family to never let anyone get close enough to know you. When people thought they knew you then they considered you their friend, which meant they could be a liability at some point, and life was messy enough without having a lot of entanglements to deal with.

It wasn't that my family was against close relationships; the opposite was in fact true. But until you knew whether or not the person you were with was worthy of that level of trust, it was best to keep them completely in the dark about who you are. The problem with my education was that I never got the part about learning how to let someone in, so I continued to work with the same bunch of guys, but I never got to the point of thinking any of them were really my friends.

The food arrived, and I sat back for a minute while Lester, Bobby, Cal, and Vince tore into it. Before I could reach for a slice myself, all our pagers went off. I glanced at mine and saw the message: _Steph__ needs a pick up. POS broke __down, but__ at least it didn't blow up this time_.

Knowing that she wasn't in any danger and that we were, in essence, being tagged for a roadside assistance call, I stood up and announced, "You guys eat. I'll get her and see where she wants to go."

"You sure?" Lester asked, barely able to speak around the bite of greasy cheese in his mouth.

"Yeah, man," I assured him. "I hadn't even ordered," I fell on my usual aloof cover as backup for why I didn't mind getting called out.

"Call us if she needs anything," Bobby said when I started to walk away.

To let him know I'd heard him, I raised a hand in their direction and began to make my way to the door.

After calling the control room and confirming that I was on my way to get Stephanie, I aimed my truck to Westover Street, pleased that only green lights were before me to ensure I'd make good time.

I pulled up behind her Ford Escort, not at all surprised that it had finally died. In truth, I was glad it had given up the fight, because this was just another in a long series of unsafe vehicles Stephanie had driven between explosions.

She got out of the car when I started walking to the driver's side. Strangely, her arms were around her stomach, as though she were trying to hold herself together. Quickly, I scanned the area for threats. Everything about the way she was behaving was putting me on edge.

Being known for being quiet meant I had a lot of time to observe people and get to know their typical behavior. Stephanie was one of those people who just threw everything out there and let people make up their minds about her. It was refreshing, really, since most women tended to act how they thought the people around them wanted them to act. But Stephanie was transparent. She seemed upset, but not about her car, which was putting me on edge.

I decided to spell out why I was there in the hope that my presence wasn't what was making her so uncomfortable. "I hear you need some help getting from point A to point B."

Nothing. The first time I tried to be smooth, and the reaction I got in return was absolutely nothing. "Stephanie..."

She grimaced slightly when I used her name. I knew most of the guys around the office had a nickname of some sort for her, but I was raised to always call someone by their name until they gave you permission to use something else. To date, she hadn't admitted that she liked any of the names the guys used, so until I heard differently, she would be Stephanie to me.

"Is everything okay?"

"Fine," she replied, blatantly lying to me.

If there was a person that understood the need to keep secrets from the world, it was me, but something about her lying to me rubbed me the wrong way. "Next time, just say that you don't want to talk about it," I corrected her. "Then I won't pry any further. But don't try to deceive me; I've never liked to be lied to."

Her eyes somehow managed to get twice as large, but instead of arguing with me as I'd expected her to based on her previous patterns of behavior, she just nodded, as though she'd heard what I'd said and would try to abide by it.

Now I was at even more of a loss. She was acting like a totally different person, and since people skills were probably at the very bottom of what I could bring to the table, I had no idea how to move forward.

"It's out of gas," she said, so softly I nearly missed it. After clearing her throat, she spoke again with a little more volume. "I just filled it up with gas an hour ago and had only driven five miles when it ran out of gas."

Thank God. This was something I could look into for her. She was being a trooper, and there was no sign of tears, so I didn't have to figure out what to do with a crying woman. And now that she'd given me a problem to solve, I finally had my next step.

Gently moving my back to slide under the car without scratching myself, I only had to glance to know what happened. "The gas line was cut," I informed her, noting that there was no surprise at all on her face. "Where did you go after you got gas?" I knew it was none of my business, but there was a standing order around RangeMan that nobody hurt Stephanie without paying a price. Someone had obviously sabotaged her car, so I had to get to the bottom of this in order to report back on what had happened.

"I went by Nick's place," she said with a slight hitch in her voice.

Nick was the fireman that had been dating Steph for the last month. None of us liked him, but we couldn't figure out a reason to object to their relationship, so we had adopted a "wait and watch" policy. He'd appeared out of the blue one weekend at a bar where Steph was hanging out, and the next thing we knew, they were exclusively dating, and he was a constant at the fire department. We understood that not everybody wanted their business spread around town, but there were too many mysteries around this guy to give any of us a good feeling about him.

Three months ago, when she and the cop had finally broken up, we'd virtually thrown a party. We knew this time that it was real because there was no fight, no scene, no yelling...just a calm pizza at Pino's where they stood up and hugged each other after agreeing they sucked at dating each other, but as friends, they worked pretty well, so that was all they were now.

Ranger had gotten called on a mission overseas the next week and had been gone since then. A lot of the guys around RangeMan wanted to ask her out, but until we knew what was going on between her and the boss, we were too worried about the cost when he came back home. Our motives had been good, but there was a piece of me that wondered if she felt like we had stepped away from her after her and cop split. Recognizing that I was about as far as you could get from someone who understood how a woman's mind worked, I shook my head to get it back on track.

"Was there anyone at Nick's that might have cut the line?" I pushed, needing more information to move this forward.

Her arms tightened around her waist, and she seemed to shrink down into herself a little more. I wasn't a psychologist, but if I had to guess, I'd lay money on the fact that she was scared. I knew I wasn't one of the guys that she was closest to, but I'd thought she was comfortable around me.

"Am I scaring you?" I blurted out, wondering how my mouth decided to work without my brain's permission. I was called Zip for a reason. Keeping my trap closed had never been an issue for me.

She shook her head no, and I couldn't see anything on her face to make me doubt her.

"But someone spooked you," I prompted, wishing she would help us both by just jumping in and telling me what happened. It would figure that the woman who usually blabbed every detail about her life would shut down when she was around the one guy who talked less than everyone else on staff.

"Nick and I had a fight," she offered, giving me one more piece of evidence to not like the firefighter. "Some of the guys at the station were picking on him about my cars blowing up, and he wanted me to stop chasing skips so that he wouldn't be impacted by my bad luck."

What a jackass. I mean, I could understand him wanting her to be more careful – more aware. But to presume to know what she should do with her life to the point of telling her to quit a job she was actually good at wasn't smart.

My mouth decided to act on its own once more. "Was this your first fight?"

She nodded that it was, and then her eyes seemed to glass over. "I'd never seen him like that before."

When she stopped, leaving my imagination to wonder what in the hell she'd seen, I had to prompt her once more. "Like what?"

Her eyes narrowed and I could almost see the wheels spinning in her head. "Loud, angry, demanding…" Her voice trailed off, and I knew there was something she wasn't saying – something important.

A gust of wind blew, moving her crazy hair around her face. She lifted a hand to tuck some of it behind her ear, and that's when I saw it. Around her wrist, there was a definite bruise. It was fresh, as though it had just happened, and I knew without having to ask for any other details that the thing she hadn't said was that Nick had signed his death warrant because he'd gotten physical with her, and she'd gotten hurt.

"Where did he hit you?" I pushed, unsure if she would confide any more but knowing that I had to at least try.

She shook her head but didn't say a word.

"Don't deny it," I told her, trying to keep the anger out of my voice so I didn't make this any harder on her than it already was. "You've got a bruise on your wrist, you're not acting like yourself, and the way you're holding your stomach makes me think he got a fist on you somewhere."

Her mouth opened, but she wisely didn't disagree with me.

I wasn't new to violence. Hell, it had been a part of my life from a very early age. But I had been raised by a certain code, and that code included the fact that you didn't hit a woman – ever – for any reason. Any man from RangeMan would gladly make Nick disappear, but I had allowed myself to get involved, and I was going to see this through to the end.

"You can't tell anybody," she said, not denying what I already knew to be true.

"Stephanie..." I was insulted that she'd think I would share her secrets. I was a lot of things, but a damn gossip definitely wasn't one of them. "I understand the need to keep this quiet. I'm not telling your business, but you need to see Bobby so he can look at your ribs to be sure nothing is broken and maybe check your stomach to be sure there's no internal bleeding."

"No!" she practically screamed at me, taking a few steps in my direction, as though it were very important that I heard her next words. "You can't tell Bobby."

Now I was at a loss. She'd never refused to see Bobby before. We all knew she hated doctors, but she never refused our medic when we offered that as an alternative to the hospital. "Somebody needs to check you out," I argued, wincing at my choice of words. The woman in front of me got checked out on a near daily basis, but that wasn't what I'd meant.

"I can't…he can't…" She had lost her ability to use sentences, and now her eyes were starting to glisten. I might not have tons of experience with woman past a single hook up and an awkward goodbye the next morning, but I knew the way a woman looked when she was trying not to cry.

"It's all right," I jumped in, hoping if I stopped wherever her mind had gone that she would snap out of the emotional corner she'd backed herself into. "No Bobby, and I'm guessing no ER, either."

"No. Everyone will know if I go to the ER. I can't explain this to the 'Burg," she pleaded.

I ran my hand through my hair, trying to figure out what to do. First things first, her car couldn't be abandoned by the side of the road, so I picked up my phone and called for a tow truck to haul it to Al's. My hope was that she'd elect to demolish it, but I knew better than to make that call for her. Once I knew someone was on their way, I decided to try getting her settled somewhere she would feel safe.

She spent a lot of time in Ranger's apartment on seven, but I didn't have a fob to get her in there, and I was honestly worried about leaving her alone right now, so that didn't seem like the best idea, either. "How about I give you a ride back to your place, and we take a look at the damage together. It may just seem worse than it is, so a doctor may not be necessary."

As I said the words, I knew they weren't ringing true, but I also knew I needed to get her somewhere out of the public eye, and I didn't think she'd fight me on going to her apartment. As I suspected, she agreed with me and let me lead her to the truck.

I tried to keep my scans of the parking lot and apartment on the down low so that I didn't add more stress on top of whatever she'd been through this morning. But I was relieved when the apartment door closed behind us and I knew we were at least somewhat secure.

Once she sat down on her sofa, I watched her relax, and I knew getting her to a place where she was comfortable had been the right decision.

"Do you have any ice packs?" I asked, feeling like the bruises on her wrists might fade a little if we iced them now before they bloomed completely. Plus, I had no idea what was going on with her side, and my training had taught me that a lot of ills could be cured with cold therapy.

"Bobby might have left some in the freezer," she confessed, making me smile with the knowledge that the only way she'd have first aid supplies was if our company medic had provided them for her. Stephanie had a lot of positive qualities, but her sense of self preservation wasn't fully developed in my opinion.

There were two small gel packs ready for use, so I grabbed them both and pulled off a few paper towels to keep them from making direct contact with her skin. I sat on her coffee table, directly across from where she'd slumped on the sofa, and held out the first ice pack. "For your wrist," I explained. "It might keep the bruise from getting any darker."

She nodded and set it on the cushion beside her before placing her wrist on it.

"Now, tell me about your side."

"Two…no, three hits right here." She lifted her hand off the ice pack to point to an area right at the bottom of her rib cage at the front. If he'd hit a rib, it could be broken, but the protection of the bone would minimize the risk of internal bleeding. If he'd gotten just below the ribs, then the possibility of internal bleeding was much higher. Even though she was noticeably more relaxed here, she still wasn't acting like herself, so I couldn't risk leaving and telling her to call if she changed her mind about medical attention.

"Is there any way you would let me look at your side?" I asked, uncomfortable with the idea of seeing her shirt lifted up, but uncertain how to move forward without it.

Without saying a word, she sat up a little straighter and then lifted her shirt, stopping just below her breast. Having just thought the word breast in front of Stephanie, I was temporarily distracted, but once my eyes landed on her side, any crude thoughts that might have been floating in my head were immediately gone. She'd mentioned three hits, which were easy to see on her light skin. The bastard had gotten her twice on the ribs and once just below. The skin below her ribs was discolored, but not dark as though there was a huge pool of blood. Despite it looking tender, I relaxed a little about internal injuries. Then my fingers lightly traced the knuckle-shaped bruise at her side. She sucked in a breath, which caused me to jerk my hand back. "Did that hurt?" I questioned, unsure how such a light touch could cause her discomfort.

"No..." Her face was suddenly flushed. "It tickled a little."

Understanding she was embarrassed by her admission, I tried to act like it was no big deal and move on. "How tender are your ribs?"

"I don't think they're broken," she answered with confidence. "I mean, last year when Michaels got to me after that distraction and he fractured two of my ribs, they felt really different from this. I'm a little uncomfortable, but I don't have any stabbing pain like I did when I broke them the last time."

Her reasoning might have been slightly circular, but it was solid, and I was suddenly a lot more comfortable not calling in any medical experts to diagnose her. Holding out the second ice pack, she took it with a slight roll of her eyes. Normally, a sophomoric display like that would have annoyed me, but when she put it on her side and then lowered her shirt to hold it in place, I relaxed. As much as I might hate eye rolling, it was pretty typical behavior for her, so it was probably a good sign that she was returning to her usual self.

"Thanks for picking me up," she said, pulling me out of my thoughts. This was more the Stephanie I was familiar with. Always polite and trying to spin whatever the circumstances were in a positive light.

"Just consider me your own personal roadside assistance program," I teased in return.

I was about to excuse myself when I realized I'd missed lunch, and based on how her morning had gone, I had a feeling she had, as well. "How would you feel about splitting a pizza with me?"

The look on her face told me she was about to make an excuse, but I wasn't quite comfortable leaving her alone yet, so I added, "I haven't eaten since breakfast, and usually doctors wait to discharge patients until they are sure they can tolerate eating without side effects, so you can consider it part of your treatment before you can get me out of your hair."

Damn, where was this shit coming from? I wasn't a doctor, and I didn't usually make excuses to be around somebody. I lifted my cell phone and punched in the number for Pino's before ordering a large with extra cheese, bacon, and hamburger. When I disconnected the call, she was looking at me strangely, so I lifted an eyebrow, indicating she needed to explain what had her puzzled.

"Interesting ingredient list," she replied.

"I saw a show where a guy ordered a bacon cheeseburger pizza," I offered as an explanation. "This seemed like a good time to see what it would taste like."

It appeared as though she'd bought my explanation, so I didn't offer any more information. We sat in silence for a few minutes before she asked if I wanted to watch television. Making a sound that I hoped she understood meant it was okay with me if it's what she wanted, she shoved her hand between the cushions on the couch and pulled out the remote before holding it out in my direction.

"Nope," I told her, declining her offer. "Your place, your television, your remote."

"I thought there was some kind of genetic mutation all men had that meant they had to hold the remote control," she said with a smile.

Thankfully, my dark skin hid the warmth I could feel growing across my cheeks. "I have a thing about boundaries," I replied, only confusing her but refusing to say any more. Thankfully, my mouth was now obeying the commands from my brain to remain aloof and quiet.

A knock on the door alerted me to the arrival of our pizza, so I stood up to get it. I'd ordered it, and there was no way in hell she was going to pay for a meal when I was around. Despite what a lot of people might have considered moral failings in my upbringing, my father was pretty strict about his sons understanding how to treat a woman.

I checked the peephole in the door and saw the back of someone, but the pizza box sticking out to the side convinced me I was right about who had arrived, so I jerked the door open completely.

The man in front of me spun around while talking. "Hey, Hot Stuff. I brought your pizza so we could talk…" When Nick's eyes landed on me, he immediately stopped his sentence and straightened himself up to ask, "Who the hell are you?"

There were so many ways to answer that question. But it was broad daylight, and I didn't think a bullet between the eyes was the right way to go at the moment, so I went with my usual evasive style. "I'm the man who ordered the pizza. Thanks for bringing it over."

"Why are you here?" he growled, obviously not happy to see me.

"Steph needed a ride home," I replied, giving him the only detail I was going to, "and now, we need to eat our lunch before it gets cold." This time, I reached out and took the pizza box quickly before he could respond.

"You need to leave," he commanded, as though I took my directions from him. "You've got no business here around my girlfriend, and she and I need to have a little talk."

"You said everything you needed to this morning," I bit back, lowering my voice. I tended to blend into my surroundings in most cases, but I had been trained by Uncle Sam to be a ruthless fighter when necessary, and he was awakening a part of my past I thought I had long past put to rest.

It looked like he wanted to argue the point, but when I let my right hand rest on the grip of my gun, Nick wisely backed off, turning for the stairs and disappearing. Just like the experts said, most bullies were really cowards, and when faced with a real fight, they usually backed down.

"Thank you," Stephanie said when I rounded the corner with lunch.

"For what?" I hated playing stupid, but I needed to be sure I understood what had earned her gratitude.

"Sending him away without picking a fight with him," she said quickly, letting me know it was an honest response. After a brief pause, she added, "And for lunch."

Taking my clue, I sat on the opposite end of the sofa and put the box between us to share the pizza with her. She ate as she usually did, including going through nearly as many slices as I did and voicing her appreciation for the flavor often. A man would have to be dead to not enjoy the way Stephanie moaned her way through a meal.

Once we were finished and I'd broken down the box to toss, I moved back to sit on the edge of the table. I hated to be the one to bring this up, but I knew it had to be done. "Nick will probably be back."

She nodded to let me know she agreed.

"How about RangeMan sets up a shadow rotation in your parking lot? You won't have to deal with us being in your space, but we could see if he tried to sneak in here," I suggested, knowing when the guys heard about this, they'd be volunteering for a chance to protect her.

"No," she adamantly objected. I knew it was wrong to force people into things they didn't want, but I didn't understand why she was being so flippant with her safety. "He'll get tired of the game when he comes back and I refuse to let him in. And if he doesn't go away, I'll call Joe and have him arrest Nick."

That wasn't a bad idea. She and the cop weren't dating anymore, but they were still really tight, and I knew he'd do anything he could for her. Arresting someone who had hurt her would be a duty he'd gladly volunteer for.

Knowing she had the cop as backup made me feel a little better about leaving her alone. I was just about to stand up to make an exit when she grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. "Please, promise me you won't mention this to anybody. I know you guys didn't like Nick, but I didn't see what you were talking about until today. I've learned my lesson, and I'd really prefer not to hear an _I told you so_ lecture."

"Nobody would give you a lecture," I argued. "But if you really don't want anybody to know, then you can trust me to keep your secret." After considering it for a second, I added, "As long as it doesn't happen again."

"Oh, it won't happen again," she assured me, her eyes hardening, and I could see her stubbornness coming in followed closely by a little of her notorious temper. Because of my family, I fully got the expression on her face. I knew it meant she had made a decision about moving past this, and I had to honor her wishes.

I didn't have to like them, but down deep in a place I never acknowledged or spoke about, I definitely respected them.


	2. Trust Freely Given

_JE created all the characters below. I'm just letting them finally do the kinds of things they want to do. _

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your hard work as the beta on this story. I don't think people understand how much of what they read below is because of you. We'll let them continue on in ignorance, but just between the two of us, I know and I appreciate it. _

**Chapter 2 – Trust Freely Given**

In the time I'd been gone at Stephanie's apartment, four alarms had sounded, and we'd gotten leads on the three outstanding high dollar skips. It had been such a hectic afternoon, no one asked about Stephanie's call for help, which meant protecting her secret had been easy.

It wasn't until a call from Al came on my cell phone that anyone was reminded of the incident. Obviously, he needed to know if he was repairing her car or hauling it to the junkyard. Al was advocating for putting the scrap of metal out of its misery, a suggestion I wholeheartedly agreed with, but I was smart enough to know better than to make that decision on her behalf. Technically, the car only needed a new gas line, which would be cheaper than buying a whole new car, so I had a feeling which option she would go with.

Lester overheard me talking to Al since our cubicles were side by side, and by the time I hung up the phone, he was standing there, leaning on my side wall with his arms crossed over his chest, letting me know he wasn't going anywhere right away.

"Can I help you?" I asked, hoping whatever had lit an interest in him could be deflected quickly.

"What happened yesterday with Beautiful?" he asked, using one of her many names around the building. It fit her – the woman was stunning when she wanted to be – but I never thought it really did her justice. She wasn't somebody that would ever be picked out of a lineup as a model, and her face wasn't exactly made in the classic American beauty style. She was one of those people that as you got to know them, you found them more and more attractive as the days progressed. I guess she grew on you, but I hated that expression because it made me think of mold or fungus, which didn't seem to relate to Stephanie at all.

Realizing he was still waiting on an answer, I shrugged, trying to minimize the importance of her call for help. "Piece of shit finally went to its great reward," I told him as casually as I could manage.

"She okay?" he asked, but since he was letting the car portion drop, I figured it would be easy to keep him off the trail that anything more had happened.

I nodded. "Yeah, she's good," I assured him, obviously selling it because he stood back up straight and walked away.

My ability to keep secrets was the trait that had probably kept me alive this long. I knew how to let information go in one ear and out the other, and I knew how to keep myself from blurting out whatever I was thinking. I believed it was something I was just born with, but years of practice had solidified my skills so that I never doubted them. Well, I'd never doubted them before, but for some unknown reason, when Lester began to walk away, my mouth opened without my permission and I said, "I think she and Nick are over."

Les turned around with a huge smile on his face. "Really, like really done, or like the old shit with the cop done?"

His sudden joy at her break up was rubbing me the wrong way. As much as we all wanted her out of the firefighter's life, it was wrong to be happy over something that was undoubtedly making her upset. "Totally over. When she told me yesterday, she looked mad and stubborn all at once, so I don't see him talking his way back into her good graces."

"Good," Lester announced. "Then I can stop planning _operation: love burn out_ since it seems to have happened on its own." He got lost in his thoughts for a minute before asking, "I wonder what happened?"

I'd been kicking my own ass for saying anything at all. That had never happened to me before. But I seemed to be back in control of my mouth again, so I picked my words carefully before shrugging and suggesting, "Rebounds never last. You jump in quick, but as soon as you realize it, you jump back out."

"True," Les agreed, not that I thought he had a clue what I was talking about. As far as I knew, he hadn't had a steady woman since elementary school. His romantic life consisted of years' worth of one night stands all strung together, but I wasn't going to argue with him about it while he seemed to be accepting everything I'd told him.

After he walked away, I picked up the phone and called Stephanie's home phone. When her answering machine picked up, I hung up and dialed her cell phone instead. Not getting an answer there either, I disconnected the call and wondered what to do. It was well after lunch, so even by her standards, it was late enough to be awake. Finally, I decided this wasn't something I was likely to be able to push out of my mind, so I stood up and made my way down to the garage. I'd swing by her apartment and check on her. Maybe she was just screening her calls to avoid her family. If she didn't answer the door when I knocked, then I'd call again and leave a message.

It didn't take long to get across town to her complex, and I took the stairs two at a time, smiling at the thought that it was usually only under duress that she would take a flight of stairs instead of an elevator.

When I got to her floor, I felt that sensation on the back of my neck that something was off. The hall was deserted, but I'd learned years ago to never ignore that feeling, so I drew my gun and slowly made my way to her door.

There was nothing to indicate a problem in the hallway, but I still let my eyes scan for a hidden threat while I lifted my hand to knock on her door. When my knuckles made contact with the wood, the door swung open. Fuck! I know we'd all wished at some point or another that she'd leave this pathetic apartment for something more secure, but even on her worst day, I knew Stephanie would never leave the door open for anyone to walk in. The locks might not keep most people out, but she never forgot to use them.

I rushed in and pressed my lips together to stop the string of curses from leaving my mouth. Her den had been trashed. Stephanie wasn't a clean freak by any stretch of the imagination, but she'd never knock over lamps and leave broken glass on the kitchen floor.

Just as I was about to call for backup, I heard a sound coming from her bedroom. Even though I knew I was as close to helpless around a crying woman as a man could be, I still found my feet pulling me in the direction of the sobbing sounds. I used my finger tips to open her bedroom door and holstered my gun when I realized she was alone.

Her bedroom didn't seem to be ransacked like her living room had been, which confused me. "Stephanie." I said her name softly, not wanting to scare her, but needing to let her know I was there.

She flinched before lifting her head and looking at me. Despite being an expert at hiding my true thoughts and feeling from people, there was nothing I could do to stop my mouth from opening and my lungs from drawing a huge gulp of air. She looked like shit. Part of it was because her hair was completely untamed and giving her a crazy vibe, and part of it was because her nose was red to match her eyes from the amount of time she'd obviously spent crying. But most of it was because of the busted lip and black eye that I knew for a fact wasn't there when I left yesterday. She was laying on her stomach on the bed, as though she'd fallen on the mattress sideways and didn't have the energy to move herself to the right position to rest her head on her pillow.

Not sure what to do, I moved toward her slowly and even lifted my palms a bit to show her I wasn't a threat.

When my legs were touching the mattress, she looked at me again and explained, "Nick came back last night."

There was no class to teach you how to handle a woman who was hanging on by a thread, so I did what I remembered a nanny of mine doing when I was young and scared. I sat beside her and put a hand flat on her back, and then I began to move it up and down slowly. My touch was too firm to tickle, but light enough to hopefully soothe and not cause her discomfort. I made shushing noises when she let out a new string of cries and just waited until she seemed to be done.

"I don't know what to do," she finally confessed once it seemed she was all cried out.

"Other than your face, what else did he get?" I asked, trying to keep my anger out of my voice.

"The same places he had before, but this time, he was a little more forceful," she offered before lifting her shirt up as she had yesterday and showing me a side that ranged in color from dark purple to red and yellow.

"Stephanie, you have to let a doctor look at that," I warned her, hoping she wouldn't fight me on it.

"I can't go to the hospital, and I can't get RangeMan involved," she answered.

"What?" The last part totally confused me. I understood her reluctance to go to St. Francis. Despite privacy laws, I knew the grapevine of the 'Burg didn't honor federal statues when it came to gossip about one of their own. "Why can't we call Bobby?"

"He…H-He's part of RangeMan," she said, not really giving me anything to work with.

"So am I," I reminded her.

"But he doesn't seem to know that," she replied, letting me know my ability to blend into a crowd was obviously paying off if the jackass didn't recognize my uniform as being the same as Bobby's. "Nick said if I said a word to the guys, he had ways of making a building full of sleeping people go boom. He's a fireman. He knows how to start a fire that can't be traced, and I can't let him hurt the guys and ruin everything Ranger's worked for. I just can't. You can't call Bobby!" By the end of her explanation, her voice was stronger and shriller. She was only another sentence or two from becoming completely hysterical.

"You know we can't let him get away with this, right?" It seemed strange to me that she thought a single guy was capable of bringing down the men she'd gotten to know over the last few years. Surely she had more faith in us than that.

"I don't know what to think," she replied. "Something about him isn't right, and I remember Tank saying crazy people were hard to catch because they were unpredictable and didn't look at the consequences of their actions in the same way the rest of us did."

I struggled to think of Tank using those words, even though I had no reason to doubt what she was saying. Maybe it was just that I couldn't picture him saying that many words all at once.

"Did you consider that he was saying that to explain why you seem to struggle to pick up some of your skips?" I didn't want to upset her more, but I needed her to see his words for what they were.

She was confused, so I knew I had to say more. "It's a mistake to think the lower level bonds are easier to pick up because of the less violent crime they committed. Often, they are the ones who are simply nuts, which makes then unpredictable and hard to secure. He was letting you know that none of us think it's strange that you sometimes end up standing over a giant fire that used to be your car, or occasionally, you're covered in unidentifiable substances. It's because the people you are picking up aren't always stable."

"Oh," she replied, as though she'd never thought of Tank's words as being spoken for the purpose of making her feel better. Then she seemed to remember why we were having the conversation in the first place. "But I don't think Nick is stable right now, either."

"I agree." My hand was still moving on her back as I spoke. "The fact that he threatened us is proof of that. But most of us have experience taking down men much more dangerous than a punk in Trenton who has jumped into the deep end of crazy. We can handle getting him."

"But I'd have to press changes to make him go to jail, and then everyone will know what he did," she said, the tears appearing in her eyes once more.

"No, you don't," I disagreed. "You definitely don't have to press charges. You just need to let me make a couple of calls, and Nick will be gone by tomorrow."

"Gone where?" she naively asked.

For some reason, the lie that my mind came up with got stuck in my throat, and I sat there mutely instead.

She must have connected the dots because she put her hand over her mouth and shook her head no. "You can't kill him. Someone would find out about it, and it would get traced back to RangeMan. You can't go after him."

"There's no way it would get traced back to us," I promised, but I could see the doubt in her eyes. Finally, I realized she wasn't ready for this conversation, so I tried to change the subject. "What would you like us to do?"

"Just forget about it, don't tell the guys and they won't suspect a thing, and let this blow over. When Nick realizes I'm not ratting him out, then he'll leave me alone," she stated, as though there was a chance in hell I'd agree to such a ridiculous plan.

Everything I came up with as a response to her misguided plan died in my throat because I didn't want to piss her off by making it seem like I was picking on her ideas. Finally, I said, "We need to get you some medical attention." Her shirt was still up on the side, and the bruises were getting darker, just in the few minutes I'd been here. I may not have been to medical school, but even I knew that wasn't a good sign.

"No hospitals," she repeated, "And no Bobby."

I tried to come up with an option that would take care of her while still respecting her wishes. My mind could only come up with one solution, and I hated it. I had a feeling she'd accept it, but it would involve me in a whole different level, and it would allow her to know something about me that could be used against me down the road. I was debating the pros and cons of opening up a piece of my real self to the woman in front of me when she hissed and moved her hand to her side, as though a stabbing pain had just hit there. I might be a lot of things, but I wasn't heartless. She needed help, and if my suspicions about her injuries were right, every minute counted. She'd proven herself to be trustworthy with Ranger's secrets, so I had no choice but to trust that she would honor mine, as well.

I picked up my phone and held it for a minute, reminding myself this was the right thing to do.

"Who are you calling?" She was definitely panicked, and I knew an increased heart rate was a bad idea if she had internal bleeding.

"I'm calling my brother," I replied, pulling up his number from my contacts listing. "He's a private doctor and specializes in treating people under unusual circumstances without breaking a patient's confidence."

She shut her eyes when I finished speaking, and I knew the pain was getting to her. Then she spoke in a quieter voice. "That's an unusual specialty. How does he fit it all on a business card?"

Without thinking about it, I laughed. I couldn't remember the last time somebody had made me spontaneously laugh, but she'd managed it with a snide comment under less-than-happy circumstances. As my brother's phone began to ring, I relaxed. I'd never used my family to get me out of a bind before, despite knowing they'd definitely be there for me if I ever asked. While my pride kept me from ever calling them for myself, I wasn't exactly opposed to using their support to protect Stephanie. She'd gone out of her way many times to take care of us, and now that I had the chance to return the favor, I couldn't turn my back on her just because it required me to step outside of my comfort zone.

Before I could think about it anymore, I heard my brother's gruff greeting. "What?"

"Shit, man. I go months without calling, and that's how you answer the phone?" I didn't want to let too much of myself out, but this was my older brother, and he would know if I was holding back and would get suspicious.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal son," he teased. "What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?" I threw out there, even though we both knew the fact that I'd called him instead of the other way around was a damn big clue.

"Spill it. What do you need?" he pushed.

There were lots of definitions for family, and while we had the whole genetic relationship, shared history, and nuclear relatives that would satisfy most dictionaries, the way he was basically saying, whatever I needed, he would do, was how I defined family. No questions asked, he had my back.

I gave him everything I thought Stephanie would be comfortable with me sharing. "I'm with somebody who's been worked over pretty good. I think there's some internal bleeding, maybe a few ribs in need of attention, but this needs to be kept under wraps for right now."

He made a sound that I recognized as his clinical voice of consideration. "Can you get him to me?"

"She's in a lot of pain. I don't know about transport," I explained.

"She?" he practically yelled. "A woman got worked over?"

Obviously, my father had instilled the same lessons into my brother as he had me about how to treat a lady. "Yeah. Can you come here?"

He sucked in a breath before answering. "I could, but if there's internal bleeding, we're talking surgery. You're just going to have to move her anyway. It would be better if you brought her to my office."

"Which one?" I asked, knowing he had a public office in the building next to the hospital, but he had one equally well equipped in the basement of his house at my family's compound.

"Nobody can know?" he repeated my initial words back to me.

"Not now, at least," I replied, knowing that while I wasn't going to broadcast her secret yet, there was no way Nick was going to walk away from this, either. If she didn't want RangeMan involved, that was just fine. I had plenty of contacts that could handle a job like this, and she would be none the wiser.

"Drive fast, and I'll meet you at the house," he instructed, getting me back to my task at hand.

We hung up, and I brushed the hair back from Stephanie's face. "I'm going to take you to my brother's house. He has a full scale office there and can treat your injuries privately so that no one else has to know." Once she nodded, I warned her, "I have to get you to the truck, and then I'm going to drive as fast as I can, but it's going to hurt you, so I need you to trust that I'm being as gentle as possible and that when we get to my brother, he'll take care of you."

"Okay," she agreed, as though she had all the trust in the world in me.

For a brief second, I sat back as the reality that she trusted me completely with her life and her secret sunk in and humbled me. The downside of making myself forgettable and not giving people anything familiar with which to associate with me meant that I hadn't had this kind of blind faith given to me before, and I was floored.

Before I got too far down that rabbit hole, she let out a low moan, and I realized she was trying to get up. I could see the effort to move was making her pain worse, so once she got herself turned around and sitting up, I stood and put my arms around her, picking her up and cradling her against my chest. She shut her eyes, and I knew she was trying to keep it together even though she was in a world of hurt. With each step I took, I made a vow to see to it that Nick paid for every single injury on her body.

It took forty-five minutes to get to my family's compound. I figured it was a good thing she was in so much pain, because she completely missed the guard tower, front gate, second gate, thumbprint scanner, and the brief glimpse at the main house with all its huge splendor on display. My brother's house was east of the main house, and while still huge by 'Burg standards, it was nothing like the place my parents occupied.

When I stopped the truck, two of my brother's men came out from the house and stopped beside me. I held up a hand to stop them and announced, "I've got her. Nobody but me takes her anywhere."

I felt Stephanie's hand on my wrist and bent down to look at her.

"It's okay. I think they were just trying to help." She was right, of course, but now that I had her here, around my family, I suddenly felt the overwhelming need to protect her from what she might see or hear. It was the only way to get her care, but I was suddenly face to face with the reality that this could go to hell a thousand different ways.

Lifting her gently, I carried her through the front door of the house in front of us and to the elevator that was open. We moved silently to the basement, where I knew his medical suite was all set up. When the doors opened, my brother stepped forward, wearing scrubs like I'd seen him so often, basically serving as a costume to make it seem like this was a perfectly normal medical office, when I knew it was anything but.

My brother was an expert at treating knife wounds, gun shots wounds, and broken bones – basically, anything that could happen to a person when they were fighting for their life, my brother had fixed it. I knew he had the skills, but I found myself wondering if it was right to let him treat Stephanie. Most of RangeMan would kick my ass if they ever found out about this. Of course, none of them knew who I really was – or more importantly, who my family was – so they'd have no idea what this really meant. I was exposing her to my family, and once they got a look at her, they were going to expect some serious explanations from me. There was probably no way I could keep her from finding out who I really was. My only wish now was that she might allow me to explain why I guarded this part of myself from the guys and hope she didn't judge me based solely on who I was related to.

"Vincent," I said as a greeting to my big brother.

He nodded at me and replied, "Anthony."

To the rest of the world we were Vince and Tony, but inside this compound, we were always called by our full name. Maybe that was why I only referred to the woman in my arms as Steph when I was thinking about her, but when Vincent asked who his patient was, I answered, "Stephanie."

His face went from casual to serious in a split second when he truly looked at the woman I was carrying. "Get her to the table," he commanded, transforming into a man who could have undoubtedly been a world class trauma physician, but instead stayed close to home to take care of anyone in the family or staff that needed him.

I laid her down on the small bed, and my brother began flipping on lights and rolling around equipment I didn't recognize. "You can wait upstairs," he suggested. "This is going to take a while."

"Fuck that," I disagreed. "I'm not leaving her side as long as she's here."

Vincent stopped long enough to look at me and then nodded. "Okay, then go scrub up, because if you're going to be in my space, you're going to get put to work."

Glad to be of some use, I quickly complied and returned holding my hands up like doctors on television always did. My brother saw what I was doing and laughed. "Relax, nurse. You're going to sit at her head and keep her calm. I need her awake as long as possible, and it's your job to talk to her to keep her with us."

Shit... As much as I hated blood, I would almost have rather him assigned me a task like wielding a scalpel than talking. Not only was I at a loss about what to say to Stephanie, but I had my brother listening in on every word, which didn't exactly inspire me to be Mr. Verbose.

"Talk, man, or I'm calling our cousin Dino to do it," Vincent threatened me.

Knowing Dino was a notorious ladies man, I scooted the stool closer to her and began to run my fingers through the tangles in her hair. It had been a ploy to get me talking, and it worked. Not just because I wasn't about to let the man-whore anywhere near Stephanie, but because it gave me something to talk about. I may not like talking about myself, but Dino was an "all out there" kind of person, so I decided to tell her all about the cousin I was saving her from having to meet. While I droned on, telling her all the stories of us from my childhood that I could talk about without severe editing, my brother worked, softly cursing from time to time.

Finally, he went over to a cabinet and unlocked it. I knew it was where he kept his serious drugs stored. Filling two syringes with a mystery medication, he came over and injected them both into her upper arm. After tossing both the used needles in the biohazard container, he said, "Tell her good night because she'll be out in a minute."

"Remember what I said," I reminded her, knowing the drugs would hit her system quickly. "You can relax because I'm not leaving your side, and nobody is going to hurt you now."

She made a sound that seemed pleased with what I'd said, and then as her eyes fluttered shut once more, she mumbled, "I trust you."


	3. They Like Her, but They Don't Know Her

_I didn't create the characters below. JE gets the credit and royalties to go with it._

_Jenny (JenRar) gets the credit for any clarity of thought or well edited sections of this story. Thank you for your hard work as the beta._

**Chapter 3 – They Like Her – But They Don't Know Her**

"What kind of sick shit gets his kicks out of punching a woman?" Vincent asked as he tied off a perfect row of stitches on Stephanie's side.

"The kind that has a limited number of days to live," I replied, my hands still threading their way through Stephanie's hair, even though she'd been asleep for the last two hours.

"You need help?" Vincent asked, reminding me so much of Bobby with that simple question. He was completely comfortable saving a life or taking one when the circumstances called for it. It was a shame they'd never get to know each other, because once I got Stephanie through this, I was going to build the walls back up between my personal and professional lives again.

"Hey, little brother," Vincent called out to me, letting me know he didn't appreciate me ignoring him to get lost in my thoughts. When I looked up from Stephanie's face, his eyes were hard. "Who did this to her? Was this some sort of message to the family?"

I let out a long breath because even though the answer was no, it could have just as easily been yes if I hadn't been so careful with keeping my true identity unknown around Trenton. "No, this was the work of a guy she used to date. He didn't seem to believe her when she said they were finished and figured since he was too stupid to argue the point with words, he'd use his fists instead."

"I can keep her asleep and call Bella down to watch over her while you and I take care of this," he offered, reminding me that despite the fact that they weren't a Norman Rockwell version of family, they still had my back.

"Thanks, man, but not this time," I said, backing out of his offer. "Besides, Bella would probably wake her up to pump her for information while we were gone." I couldn't help but notice my brother laughed when I suggested what his wife, and surgical nurse, Bella might do, but he never disagreed with me.

"Good," a deep voice from the doorway sounded, causing Vincent and me both to jump as though we'd been caught sneaking glasses of wine from the fridge like we had when we were twelve.

"Pop," I replied as a greeting. "What are you doing here?"

He laughed, but he didn't seem amused. "You think I wouldn't hear about my youngest boy driving to the compound like the hounds of hell were on his tail just to bring a near lifeless girl to his brother to save?"

The place was huge, encompassing acres of land, with the world's most sophisticated systems to keep it secure. Yet a single truck driving through in broad daylight was enough to have the guys monitoring things to call in my father.

Interrupting my thoughts, Pop asked, "So are you going to tell me who the girl is?"

"Are you asking me to tell you, or demanding I do it?" I knew I was being rude, which he might allow temporarily, but I knew better than to keep pushing him indefinitely. My father loved me, and he was a patient man, but he demanded respect from everyone around him, including his children.

Taking a few of his long strides, he moved closer to her and grimaced when he got a look at Stephanie's face. "Tell me the man who did this isn't breathing."

"Can't," I hated to admit. "She begged me to leave him alone because she seems to be under the delusion that it will get traced back to me and I'll get arrested."

Pop rubbed his chin, a sign he was thinking about something. "So she's trying to protect you, even if it means she gets hurt in the process. Her thinking about it might be off, but her intent is commendable. When will she wake up? Your mother is going to want to meet the woman that managed to bring you home."

"Pop, I'm not home for a visit, and Stephanie can't go up to the house for a visit... She just had surgery." I stopped talking when my dad started smiling.

"So you're trying to protect her, too, and her name is Stephanie," he pointed out two things he'd learned with my mindless ranting. This is why I didn't talk. It was better to stay quiet and not risk shoving your foot in your mouth.

My father began to walk away but turned back just before reaching the stairs. "Tell me she's Italian."

Oh hell, I wasn't sure whose wrath was worse: Stephanie's if I told too much about her, or my father's if I didn't tell him enough. Finally, I decided she'd never made a secret about her heritage, so I told him, "She's part Hungarian on her mother's side, and half Italian on her father's side."

"Close enough." He grinned before looking at my brother to demand, "Call me when she's up to receiving visitors, and I'll have your mother bring over some gnocchi."

I failed to cover up a laugh at that. Despite our differences, Stephanie would probably love my mother's gnocchi.

"Am I a comedian all of a sudden?" my father asked, obviously trying to figure out why his quiet son was giggling in a poor imitation of a school girl.

"It's just that if you're trying to get on Stephanie's good side, you'd better lead with tiramisu or cannoli and follow up with the potato pasta."

Pop looked at me for a few seconds, as though trying to figure out who I was and what I'd done with his son, before letting a small smile out and saying, "Then she'll fit right in with your mother." He cast another glance at the woman sleeping on the bed in the center of the room. "I like her."

"You can't like her," I disagreed. "You haven't even officially met her."

"She caused you to come home. That's all I need to know to accept that I like her. Everything else isn't important." With that declaration, he left, only calling out as he passed through the door, "I've put muscle at the entrances to the house. You can watch over her while the family watches over you."

"Pop," I called out just as the door began to close behind him. I didn't hear it close, and when I glanced over, I could see he was holding it open with his large hand, but he hadn't stepped back into the medical suite.

"Thanks," I said, hoping it was loud enough for him to hear because I didn't want to have to say it again. The door shut silently, and I knew he'd gotten the message. I might be uncomfortable getting Stephanie mixed up in my family's drama, but I knew that she'd be safe here while she was recuperating.

I turned my attention back to Vincent, who was throwing the metal instruments he'd used to repair the bleeding inside Steph into a machine to clean and sterilize them. Then he began to pull off the apron-like smock he wore, which had blood on it from his work earlier.

"What's the prognosis?" I asked, finally working up the courage to ask now that he was done working on her. I'd learned a long time ago that if you pestered him with questions while he was working on someone, you'd end up with a scalpel sticking somewhere out of your body. I still had the scar on my hand as evidence of that fact.

Vincent pulled the cap off his head and ran his fingers through his short dark brown hair. It was identical to mine, except I kept mine long enough to tie back just to irritate my parents. His gesture of thinking was just like my tell, as well. "I think she'll be fine. Her spleen is gone, and I've repaired the damage I saw. Her heart is steady, which tells me she is a real fighter. That's working in her favor. She's got a broken rib, but other than wrapping that, there isn't much else we can do while she waits for it to heal. She's going to need to recuperate for at least a week here."

"A week?" I practically yelled. Seven days would give my whole family a chance to meet Stephanie and get to know her. Since people tended to love her once they met her, I had no doubt they'd be planning a wedding before the weekend was upon us. "Can you get her stable enough to transfer tomorrow if she goes to a place that can handle her medical needs?"

His lips pressed together, and I could tell he wasn't happy with the question. "You want to tell me why you're ashamed of your family?"

"I'm not ashamed of my family," I replied, wishing there was some way for me to make him believe me. Pop and I had had this exact same conversation so many times before I went into the Army and then again when I got out of the military and went to work for Ranger instead of coming home.

"Then why can't we be around your woman?" Vincent pushed, jumping to the wrong conclusion.

"She doesn't know who I am," I confessed, wishing it wasn't so hard. "She knows me as Zip, a quiet security expert at RangeMan who can be very helpful when necessary, but she doesn't actually know anything else about me than that. If she figures out who I am, what our family is, then she'll be afraid of me and mark me off the list as a person to trust because I hid this huge secret from her."

"Then I suggest you tell her all of it the second she wakes up. Tell her where she is – the long version – and explain you hid who you were for your safety and the safety of the people you work with. Remind her that you trust her with this information because you believe she wouldn't betray you, and then give her the chance to trust you back."

When he stopped talking, my first inclination was to tell him how absolutely ridiculous that was and point out all the reasons why it wouldn't work, but when I thought about it, that was probably the only plan that might work. I had to bring her here to honor her wishes and save her life, so I owed her an explanation about where she was exactly, which would mean explaining who I was at the same time. Hell, it would either work perfectly, or it would fail monumentally and fast. Either way, I'd probably know pretty quickly where things stood, so at least I had the advantage of not having to suffer with the unknown for very long.

"I hate it when you're a smartass," I replied instead, unwilling to give him the last word.

"I'll send Bella down to clean her up and get her changed so she'll be more comfortable when she wakes up," he offered.

As Vincent passed by, I called out to him just as I had my father. "Thanks for everything," I said, finding my voice was a little softer than usual.

"No worries, man," he replied, letting me know he'd still heard what I'd said. "You know you can always count on your family," he reminded me before walking silently out and leaving me alone with an eerily still Stephanie.

My hand was still brushing through her hair. After all the time I'd repeated the motion, I had untangled most all of it and realized it was actually much softer than I'd thought it would be. "Stephanie," I spoke to her, even though I knew she couldn't hear me. "I did this for you, but I hope once you wake up and realize where you are that you don't hate me."

"She won't hate you," a female voice came from the door my brother had just walked through.

"Hey, Bella," I greeted my sister-in-law. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but Stephanie hates being lied to."

"Did she ever ask you directly who you were and you tell her something that wasn't true?" Bella oversimplified the situation as she filled up a basin with water and squirted something in, making some small bubbles.

"No, but lies can come in the form of omission, too," I reminded her.

"I'm not saying she'll be happy, but you saved her life and protected her identity in the process. She won't hate you." Bella seemed so sure that I tried to believe what she was saying was true.

"Do you want to step out while I get her cleaned up?" she asked, moving to finish cutting off the shirt my brother had partially destroyed to get to her side for surgery.

"No," I quickly replied. "I promised not to leave her alone."

Bella hummed softly while she worked, and by the time she was done, I was surprised at how much better Stephanie looked. "When do you think she'll wake up?" I asked, still stroking Stephanie's hair.

Bella's head moved from side to side, like she was performing some kind of complicated math problem. "Maybe half an hour," she started, giving me hope that I'd see Stephanie's eyes soon. Then she contradicted herself by saying, "Or it could be up to two hours, depending on how the drugs affect her. It really varies by person."

"Thanks," I bit out sarcastically at her less-than-helpful response.

"Hit the call button when she wakes up, and Vincent will come down to check on her and move her to a more comfortable room," she reminded me. "I'd wait until she's settled in her new room to tell her everything. Then you'll know if she's really awake or not."

I nodded that I heard her but turned my attention back to the woman in front of me. I'd heard rumors that Ranger used to go to her apartment at night and just sit beside her bed to watch her sleep. I didn't know him well enough to ask if they were true, but sitting in the silence of the room, seeing her chest rise and fall, I could totally get why he would do something like that. It was peaceful to see her sleeping so soundly. I could only imagine the comfort it would bring him before going on some of his missions. She looked so angelic lying there with her hair fanned out on the pillow behind her head.

In this light, she had a girl next door kind of appeal to her. Bella had removed all Stephanie's make-up so that she was just there in her natural beauty. I'd known Steph for over three years, and I'd seen her face down some real creeps on distractions, some crazy people while picking up her skips, and even some psycho stalkers because of her association with us. Despite all that she'd been through, I had always been impressed at how her loyalty never waved, and even though we undoubtedly made her life more dangerous, she never shied away from us.

When you were around her, especially if you were receiving her full attention, you felt better about yourself. Somehow, you went from being a faceless security guy, former Ranger, and quiet person, to a man of worth. If Stephanie found something in you that she wanted to be around, then there had to be something worthwhile in there after all.

She made me feel better about myself and my secrets. Keeping my real life from everyone had always come naturally to me, but now that I knew I was about to lay everything out to the woman sleeping in front of me, I found that I wasn't nervous like I'd thought I would be. This secret I had guarded for what felt like my whole life was going to unravel tonight, and for the first time ever, I found myself hoping she could accept it and understand why I hid from everyone, including her. Because if she could accept me, despite my family and past, then maybe there was still something worthwhile in me after all.

My phone buzzed on my hip, and reality came crashing back in. "Yo," I answered it, knowing if I ignored the calls that it would only come back to bite to me in the ass.

Lester's voice came through the line. "Man, we're all going to the new club at the highway. You up for a night of dancing, booze, and hopefully a hot chick or two?"

"Nah, man," I turned him down gently and then decided to try weaving some half truths into a story that would protect my absence for a while. "I had to leave town quickly for some family stuff, so I'm going to have to take a week off. It all went down while I was at Stephanie's apartment this afternoon, so she's with me. I guess after she and Nick split, she needed a change of scenery too, so she came along for the ride."

"You looking out for her?" Les pushed a little, reminding me that we had a code to take care of her above all else.

"Yeah, she'll be fine," I assured him.

"I'll tell Tank. You do what you got to do, and we'll see you next week." He accepted what I was saying so simply that I almost felt guilty for lying to him. Something told me if the truth ever came out about why I had Stephanie with me at my family's place that the guys would be less than thrilled with me. Last night, I should have staked out her parking lot instead of leaving her undefended. Life didn't give us redos, but I was going to do everything in my power to see a screw up like that never happened again.

After I hung up the phone, I reached over and once again began running my fingers through her hair. I was so focused on rehearsing what I would say when she woke up that I didn't notice her big blue eyes open at first. It wasn't until her small voice said, "Zip?" that I realized she was looking at me with eyes full of trust.

"Hey, Stephanie," I whispered, unsure why I was speaking so quietly. "How are you feeling?"

Her forehead wrinkled, and then she answered, "Like I've been attacked and then put back together."

"Well, that makes sense," a voice from the other side of the room replied, making me spin around and put my hand on my hip to cup the grip of my gun. When I saw it was Vincent, I relaxed.

Figuring she had been in so much pain she might not recognize him from the first time they met, I decided to formally introduce them. "Stephanie, this is my big brother, Vincent. He took care of your injuries. Vincent, this is Stephanie."

My brother came over in his fully professional way and began to examine his handiwork. "You took quite a beating." He had a habit of just telling things like they were and didn't mince words. "After it's all said and done, you've got a broken rib, and the internal bleeding has been taken care of, but it was tricky and required me to remove your spleen."

She blinked at him a few times and then said, "It's okay. I don't think I was using it anyway."

That was all it took to make my brother's serious persona to leave completely, and my lighthearted sibling started laughing out loud. "No, you don't need it. We'll keep you still for tonight, and tomorrow, I'll have my wife come help you stand up and start moving around some. After a few days of limited movement in the medical wing, we can get you out with assistance to keep you from feeling too cooped up. I figure after a week here, you'll be able to return home feeling enough like your old self to do most things without assistance, but you've got a month at least before you're completely normal and ready to return to a full range of activities."

"A month," she repeated, probably trying to figure out how she would earn money if she couldn't chase skips.

"You know there's always a place for you at RangeMan," I reminded her. "Nobody runs searches like you."

She put a hand over her face, and I knew she needed a minute to get herself under control, so I turned to Vincent and asked, "Can she have some water or something to eat?"

"No food tonight, but she can have some small sips of water to keep from getting too dry. Tomorrow, we'll try some clear liquids, and if they work, we'll move up through soft bland foods, and then to more substantial bland food. It will be a few days before she can take anybody up on an offer to eat some homemade pasta," he explained. During his long response, Stephanie had removed her hand and was listening intently. It figured that talk of food would help her overcome her feelings of being stuck inside for a while.

"You saved my life," Stephanie said softly at the end of his dietary speech. "I can't thank you enough."

"You don't have to thank me," he interrupted her. "Just keep an eye on my little brother, and we'll count it as even."

Before giving her a chance to argue, he turned off the brakes on her bed and announced we were moving her to a more comfortable bed. After pushing her down the hall, he had me grab one side of the sheet to move her from the operating gurney and into the recovery bed, which looked much more comfortable. He pointed out her nurse call button, which he said would bring down either himself or his wife Bella. Then he excused himself, nodding to me before he walked out.

I busied myself getting her something to drink and holding the straw up to her lips for a small sip. She nodded when she was done and thanked me for helping her.

"Zip?" She sounded tentative in how she said my name, so I sat on the chair next to her bed, pulling it close to the side so I could see her face. I took her hand and was relieved when she squeezed my fingers. "Zip, why did you bring me here?"

"You needed medical care, and you didn't want anyone to know. You can trust my brother not to tell anyone, and if we'd done nothing, you would have died," I knew I was rambling, but I wanted to be sure she got that doing nothing wasn't possible.

"Thank you for saving my life and honoring my wishes at the same time," she said a little more softly. I took comfort in her words, but then she ripped away my false sense of security by asking. "So do I get to know exactly where I am? I thought you mentioned going to your family's compound, and this looks just like a hospital. So either your family is absolutely loaded, or you grew up in some kind of medical institution."

I couldn't help but grin at that. "There were times I thought a lot of my family should have been in an institution, but no, this is my brother's house, which is on my family's property. My parents live in a larger house not too far away."

She yawned big, proving that despite being awake now, the surgery had drained her energy.

"I'll tell you what," I tried bargaining with her. "You go to sleep now, and I won't leave your side. Then when you wake up, I'll tell you all about my family and explain why you never knew anything about me other than my nickname and my military service record."

"Promise?" she asked, her eyes already looking heavy.

"Of course. I promise to tell you everything," I told her, meaning every word.

She shook her head no and clarified, "No... Promise you'll stay with me?"

Didn't that just make a guy want to beat his chest like some kind of freakin' jungle animal? "Yeah, Stephanie," I told her. "I will be here by your side the whole time."

She smiled at my assurance, which made my face mirror hers, and then she drifted off to sleep.


	4. Getting to Know You

_I did not create the characters below. JE gets the fame of that claim._

_Jenny (JenRar), once again you've done a masterful job of working your beta magic. Thank you!_

**Chapter 4 – Getting to Know You**

"Zip?"

I heard my name, and it took me a minute to get my bearings regarding where I was and who was calling me. After sitting up straight in the chair I'd fallen asleep in, I realized I was in the recovery room with Stephanie, and it was her small voice saying my name.

"Hey, Stephanie," I replied, moving so that I could hold her hand once more. "I'm right here."

"Can I have a little water?" she asked timidly, as though worried I would cut her off from any liquid refreshment.

Not bothering to answer, I just got a cup and held the straw to her lips to let her take what she needed to ease her dry mouth.

After she nodded that she was done, I set the cup down and asked if she needed anything else. At the moment, I was desperate for something to do to help her. I couldn't help but remember she was only in this condition because I'd failed to watch over her. I wasn't really cut out to be a nurse, but to make up what I'd allowed to happen, I'd gladly try.

"I'm ready," she said, dragging me out of the mental image of myself in a nurse's uniform and back to the present.

"Ready?" I repeated, wondering what I'd missed.

"You promised when I woke up that you would explain everything about where I am. I've slept long enough, so I'm ready to listen. Where am I, and why do you seem so nervous about me being here?"

"You're completely safe," I started, feeling the need to assure her of that fact.

"I know," she replied, as though she weren't the least bit concerned about her safety. On the one hand, it was a compliment that she trusted me enough to relax in what I'd told her as true. Of course, the flip side meant that she was blindly trusting, which meant anyone could take advantage of her. "Now tell me where I am."

"You're in my brother's basement," I began, trying to remind her about the other people around us that she'd already met.

"If this is his basement, I can't wait to see how well-appointed the rest of his house is," she replied dryly.

I ran my hand through my hair, and let it fall back down to my shoulders, unsure of how to proceed. Finally, I decided there was no way to do it other than to jump in and tell her about myself first before trying to tie our current situation into it. "Look, I'm not exactly who you think I am."

Her hands gripped the sheet, and I noticed she pulled it higher around herself while her eyes got bigger at my less than suave opening sentence. "Who are you, then?"

"Well, maybe I didn't start that right. I'm exactly who you think I am, but there's a lot more to me, as well." That didn't sound so much like I was in the witness protection program.

"That's true for all of us, Zip," she replied, seeming to relax a little. "There's more to everybody than meets the eye."

That was the truth, but I don't think that phrase was designed to cover my situation exactly. "Let me start by telling you about my family."

Always one to learn new things, she seemed to relax, and the sheet dropped down a little when she let go of her tight grip on it.

"I grew up in a huge, loud, Italian family." I figured I'd start with something she could easily picture. "My parents were great and saw to it that my brother and I had everything we could possibly need. I had a lot of uncles who were constantly going in and out of my father's study, and I took for granted that everyone else had the same thing, so I didn't question it."

As I spoke, her small hand slipped over mine, and I opened my fingers so that I could rewrap them around hers. The contact was enough to encourage me to go on with my story.

"It wasn't until I was in high school that I first began to question my family as being different than everyone else's. I mean, I knew we had money and that not everyone did, but I had grown up thinking it was because my dad was in real estate and owned a lot of properties. One day, I was playing football, and someone on the opposing team took a cheap shot at me. When I got up, I asked what his problem was, and he asked what I was going to do about it and then suggested I was going to get one of my daddy's goons to take care of him for me. That night, I waited for all my uncles to leave, and I went into my father's office to ask him what the guy had meant by that comment."

I could still remember that conversation like it was yesterday instead of nearly twenty years ago. Some people might consider the day they learned Santa Claus wasn't real or the tooth fairy was really just their mom as the day they grew up, but this conversation was the point I marked as my entry into manhood.

"It took him a few minutes, but he finally decided to level with me. He started by telling me there were two kinds of families. One was just a group of people who were related; the other was both blood and loyalty as what tied them together. He told me he was the leader of the second kind of family. When he saw I didn't understand, he asked if I knew what the mafia was. I remember smiling because I'd recently seen _Godfather_, so everybody knew what the mob was. When I mentioned the movie, he waved it off and said that just a Hollywood version that took something honorable and bathed it in blood to make it seem like a crime. I didn't understand what that meant, but I started watching a little closer when my uncles came to visit, and I noticed they always began by kissing his ring, which I thought was odd for a business meeting. The next thing I noticed was that when he left the house, he always put a gun in the holster at his waist. And the last thing that tipped me off was late one night."

I swallowed hard at this memory. If my dad explaining that I was in a mafia family was the beginning of my journey to manhood, then this scene was what shut the door on my carefree youth.

"One of the family cars pulled up late at night, and I slipped out of my bed to see what happened. My uncles were dragging a man into the backyard. My father went out to the patio to meet them. I couldn't hear what was said, but I knew the guy who my uncles were holding down was upset, and it looked like he'd been beaten. I expected my father to take care of the man's injuries, but instead, he reached out and cupped the guy's cheek, tapping it kind of hard. Then he bent over and kissed him on the cheek. I thought it was strange that my dad was comforting him but doing nothing to make his injuries better. I kept watching after my father went in and saw my uncles haul the guy back to the front of the house to shove him in the truck of their car. Then I heard a gunshot before they shut the trunk and drove off."

At that point, I had to stop talking and shut my eyes to get the image out of my head.

Once I had myself back together, I opened my eyes and picked up my story again. "There was no way I could deny my family was the mob at that point, and my father was a pretty powerful mob boss. I swore then I'd have nothing to do with his world, but things can be complicated when you're in high school. A few people knew who I was and gave me a hard time, trying to get a hand up on the youngest son of a powerful man. For the most part, I fought my own battles, but one day, I got cornered by four guys much bigger than I was. I fought as hard as an eighteen-year-old could, but in the end, I came home bruised, busted up, and pissed at the world. I felt like it was my father's fault, so as soon as my face healed enough for me to be presentable, I went straight to an Army recruiter and enlisted to join up three weeks after graduation. I figured it would kill two birds with one stone because it would teach me how to fight and it would get me away from my family."

I couldn't help but let out a chuckle at how foolish that hope had been. Like Pop always said, you can run as far as you want, but you can never deny the pull of your family. "I served for eight years, made it through Ranger school, and became a good soldier with a distinguished field record. But I got tired of always shipping out, spending nights in jungles and deserts, and not having a place that really felt like home. About that time, Tank called me and asked if I had an interest in living in Trenton. He told me about RangeMan, and it seemed like a perfect place, so I accepted the job, and once my enlistment ended, I made the change from soldier to mercenary."

Trenton was about an hour away from my family's home, and when I settled there, I believed they thought I would return back and take up my place as a leader in the family's business interests. "Pop and I had some legendary fights over that, with him insisting I couldn't deny who I was born to be, and me assuring him I wanted nothing to do with his empire after risking my life to fight for what is good and honorable in this country. After a year of our constant fighting, I came home for dinner one night and realized no one was here. In thirty years, I'd never recalled a time when somebody wasn't in the compound. I knew something was wrong, and I was forced to decide if I should drive back to Trenton and keep my nose out of it or go back to the truck in the driveway, suit up, and find out who was threatening my family."

"Who had them?" Stephanie asked, apparently deciding I had taken option number two instead of abandoning my parents.

"A rival family had taken most of the staff to the basement, but my parents were in their bedroom upstairs. Apparently, the dipshit that had them wanted to try to stage their deaths as a crime of passion. Anyway, when the fucker put a gun to my mother's head, I knew exactly what my dad meant when he said you never completely turn your back on your family because they're in your blood. The only thing that mattered to me at that moment was eliminating the threat to my parents…and that's exactly what I did."

Stephanie squeezed my hand but didn't interrupt to ask any questions. "My father called in some of my uncles to get rid of the people that tried to hurt them, and then he and I had a man-to-man chat in his office. We didn't fight, but I told him while I loved him and my mom, I couldn't follow in his footsteps. And to protect myself and keep him from ever being in a position to have me used against him, I was going to separate myself from the family. I'd picked up a nickname in the Army, so I went by that exclusively, leaving my full name and any ties I had to my family behind. But on occasion, I would sneak back home, because as much as I might want to fight it, there is a part of me that belongs here, too."

"So I'm in your brother's house, and he's a part of your family's business?" she asked, bringing me back to the present.

I nodded and added, "His house is about a quarter of a mile from my parents', and it's one of about ten buildings that make up the family compound. My brother is a doctor; it was all he'd wanted to do since we were little. After medical school, he set up a private practice, but he also takes care of any medical needs the family might have, which is why he had a state of the art medical suite in his basement. My pop believes in having the best of everything, so if his son needed a surgical center, it was going to rival what the best hospitals had in place."

"So your brother has a foot in both worlds," Stephanie wisely pointed out.

"Yeah," I agreed, feeling a familiar pang of jealousy that he had a set of skills that made that possible.

"And you've got years of pressure trying to get you to do the same thing, right?" she pushed, once again hitting the nail square on the head. "Your father would support you righting the wrongs on the streets of Trenton, but he also wants you to play a role in what he has built, too."

"Yeah, but I can't do that," I assured her. "I can't just be violent for the sake of making money or intimidating people into doing my will. But I also can't cut ties with them completely."

"I can understand that," she spoke quietly. "I mean, they might cause you more heartache than joy most days, but when it's all said and done, they're the only family you have, and if you completely cut ties with them, then you are totally alone."

My eyes began to blink, and I felt like my brain was scrambled trying to make sense out of Stephanie's reaction.

Apparently, she hadn't connected all the dots in my story. "Stephanie, I'm the worst possible kind of man. I'm a part of a mob family, and I'm a killer."

"You're not a killer." Her voice was a lot firmer than it had been since I'd found her the day before.

It wasn't possible to stop the laugh from coming out of my mouth. "Oh, but I am. I'm telling you my secrets so that you'll know exactly who I am, not so that you'll romanticize me into something I'm not. Uncle Sam taught me to be a killer, and I used every single skill they gave me in combat and secret missions. Then I retired and moved to Trenton, where my hands are still covered in blood from criminals I've had to take down. On top of that, I have killed to protect my family and to protect myself when my family's enemies have discovered who I really was."

When she squeezed my hand, I was suddenly repulsed by the idea that someone as kind and sweet as her would be touching hands that had taken so many lives…more than I could easily remember to count.

"Are you repulsed by me?" she asked, her voice still hard.

"What?" I guessed all the meds had confused her. "I'm repulsed by me, and I don't want you anywhere near the shit that my life brings with it. Why would you even ask something like that?"

"Because I've killed several people, too, and I've been responsible for others dying because of my actions. They weren't necessarily good people, but who am I to say they deserved to die? I've got blood on my hands the same as you. If you spilled all this thinking I wouldn't want to be around you, then you obviously don't know me very well."

For someone who'd just come out of surgery, that was a long speech, and even though she was getting a little winded at the end, there was no doubt she meant every word.

"There's no law against loving your family," she pointed out. "You don't have to be embarrassed because of where you came from."

"I'm not embarrassed, but it's not really something I want to get out. My family has some very powerful enemies, and the only way to protect myself and my family from being in the position of having to do something to save me is to keep the world from knowing who I really am,"

"You know I wouldn't say anything, right?" she asked, sounding uncertain.

"I trust you Stephanie," I responded so quickly that I knew the words were true as I said them. "I never would have brought you here if I didn't believe that you would keep this to yourself."

"So will your family be upset that I know about them?" she asked, looking so much more relaxed than I would have thought possible.

"No." I laughed this time, knowing how off she was. "In fact, the opposite is true. My father is giving you all the credit for bringing the prodigal son back home."

Her mouth opened, but she shut it quickly before any words came out.

"Go ahead and ask," I prompted her. "I've told you more than anyone else. At this point, I'll answer anything you want."

Her eyes lit up, as though I'd just given her a great gift. I couldn't figure out why a little information would make her so happy, but I'll be damned if she didn't look like a kid in a candy store. And based on how much this woman loved candy, that was saying something.

She then asked a question I hadn't expected. "What do they want you to do in the family? I mean, your brother gives them medical care, so what special skill set do you have that they want to use?"

How did I answer that? 'Well, I was trained in the Army to be a killer, so a mob assassin would be a good way to cut my teeth in the family business.' I decided that might a little too much honesty, and I wasn't entirely sure it was the whole truth anyway. "My dad wants me to help manage the casinos he owns in Atlantic City and to work on expanding our influence farther north. To do that would mean being his right hand man so that when he retired, I would take over the family business."

"What exactly does the business include?" she pushed, still enjoying her carte blanche permission to dig for details. "You mentioned gambling, but do they do drugs and guns, too?"

I couldn't help but laugh. My father was a ruthless man, I'd seen it firsthand. But he had a certain code he lived by. "No guns or drugs. He used to say he ran a family business, and no family has a reason to get involved in those things. He owns eleven casinos and controls the hotels, gambling, bars, nightclubs and the entertainment that's included in and around them. And by entertainment, I mean sporting events like boxing and ultimate fight battles, as well as singers, shows, and something he calls professional individual entertainment."

"What's…professional individual entertainment?" She had to ask the one thing I wish she hadn't.

"Escorts," I replied dryly, using the term Pop would employ when pushed.

"You mean hookers?" she clarified, trying to raise an eyebrow.

"Probably," I had to confess, "but I've honestly never pushed for details because he's pretty secretive about that part of the operation, and there's a huge piece of me that doesn't want to have it confirmed that my father is really just a glorified pimp."

She looked around the room at its opulent furnishings, despite it being set up for medical purposes. "Somehow, I doubt he's a pimp."

"Not exclusively," I had to agree. "He's not a pimp."

"So why don't you help him run the business?" she wondered. "I mean, running a casino is a legitimate business."

I ran my hand through my hair again, tugging on the ends to pull against my scalp, as though the slight pain would help me to focus on the answer better. "It's not just the casino." I could hear the frustration in my voice. "It's the way he uses his influence to keep competition out and how he deals with other families for his muscles' guns and booze. There are other businesses on the strip that pay my father to provide protection because they're worried if they don't partner with him, he will run their companies into the ground. Hell, there are all kinds of things he does that I can't buy into, and that's completely ignoring the whole paid escorts thing."

"Okay, so it's not what you want to do for your career," she jumped in, keeping me from launching into another tirade about my father's business decisions. "But that doesn't mean you have to completely isolate yourself. Does your dad accept you working at RangeMan?"

"He tolerates it, and we have a mutual understanding to not discuss it. I pretend he accepts my job, and he pretends it's just a training program for me to take over for him one day," I explained.

"That sounds like my mom and me," she chuckled. "She pretends my job is just a way for me to meet eligible men that I will soon marry, and I pretend that her harping is really sarcasm that she doesn't mean."

They weren't the same, but I could see enough similarities to know in her own way, she understood the push and pull between Pop and me.

"So your solution is to hide from your family and assume a secret identity?" she teased. Her face wasn't smiling, and there was no humor in her eyes, but I was holding out the hope that the last phrase was a joke of some sort. I waited, but when she didn't crack even a minor smile, I realized she was serious.

"It's not a secret identity," I defended.

"No one but me knows Zip is really…" She paused, and her forehead wrinkled. "Wait, what is your real name?"

Damn, I had promised to answer all her questions, so I couldn't exactly say _I don't want to tell you._ "It's Anthony," I confessed, realizing the name felt strange because it had been a long time since I'd said it aloud. "Anthony Pertucci."

"Pertucci," she repeated, still dwelling on the name. "Wait, what's the connection between your family and Alexander Ramos in Deal?"

"You couldn't be convinced to say you weren't really interested in that answer, could you?" I asked, trying to be flippant about it, but down deep, I really wished it were possible.

"Not now that you've acted nervous about answering," she said, effectively shooting down my hope.

"There are differences, of course. Mr. Ramos is Greek; my family is Italian. They deal with arms and munitions, and we deal with gambling and entertainment. But we get our firepower through the Ramos family, and when the heads of the families on the eastern seaboard meet, my dad and Mr. Ramos sit side by side at the table as equals."

She listened, but her face still looked like she was searching for an answer. "I get that, but I thought I'd read somewhere that they were connected in a way that was really unusual; I just can't remember where."

"We don't compete, so there is a healthy level of respect between Pop and Mr. Ramos. It's not unusual for them meet or spend time together in public," I offered as a possibility for what was stuck in her head. I knew better than to discount it completely. I might not talk much, but that just gave me more time to observe Stephanie in action, and I couldn't remember a single time when her instincts at connecting clues had led her wrong.

The silence began to stretch on for a few minutes, and I couldn't resist trying to lighten the mood by asking, "No more questions?"

She grimaced and took a deep breath. "I got sidetracked for a few minutes trying to dig something out my memory that seems to be stuck. I can't think of anything right now." She seemed reluctant to admit that.

"You've been through a lot lately," I reminded her. "If something else pops into your head, feel free to ask later. But if it involves my family, I'd rather we talk about it when it's just the two of us and not a crowd of people."

"That's fine," she agreed, obviously happy to have permission to keep hounding me for personal information. "But why does it need to be just us?"

"Because it is safer for you if my family isn't aware of how much you know," I answered honestly.

"Why does that matter?" She was confused once again. "I mean, I'm here, so it's safe to assume I know some things, right?"

"Yes, but knowing my dad is a major business owner and I come from a rich family with tight security is completely different than knowing my dad is the leader of a major organized crime family and has the resources to take a life easier than most people can get a pizza delivered."

"You make a good point," she agreed, letting it drop.

We sat comfortably without talking for a few more minutes before my mouth opened on its own. "So you aren't pissed at me for not telling you the kind of place I was bringing you or letting you know about who I was?"

"No," she jumped in the second I finished talking. "You told me everything I needed to know to get me to agree to come, and then as soon as I was ready to listen, you explained everything else. I don't see what there would be for me to pissed about."

Either she was the most amazing woman ever, or she was incredibly naive.

Before I could decided which was the more likely explanation, she spoke up again. "Besides, you have yet to cop out when I asked you something by telling me it was too dangerous for me to know or that you'd have to kill me if you answered. More importantly, you asked before you brought me here. My opinion seems to matter to you, which gets you a lot of leeway in my book."

I smiled in response to her answer. I knew there was probably a lot of information in her words that went beyond just what we'd been through. I wasn't sure if it was Joe, Ranger, or even the dead-man-walking Nick that had acted like a chauvinist prick, but I hoped I was smart enough not to repeat their mistakes.

She'd accepted everything I told her without judging me or pulling away. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that kind of response from someone when I opened up about my family. Now all I had to do was figure out why her response mattered so damn much to me.


	5. In the Right Hands

_JE created the characters below. I created this unusual situation that Janet would never allow._

_Jenny (JenRar) there are no words to thank you for your beta work and grammar lessons._

**Chapter 5 – In the Right Hands**

I considered myself a reasonably intelligent man. I didn't have a college degree, but I had enough real-life experience and had studied enough in the school of hard knocks that I felt confident in my mental abilities. However, after spending roughly twelve hours with Stephanie in a small recovery room, I was coming to realize what had seemed like a brilliant plan at the time I'd concocted it, was quickly becoming a huge mistake.

I'd nearly run out of excuses to keep people other than my brother and sister-in-law out of her room. The way people were dropping by to check on us meant some time after lunch today, Stephanie was going to be meeting one or both of my parents, and perhaps an uncle or two. It was one thing for me to tell her about my family, but the idea that she would be shaking hands with major mafia players was making me feel like I was being scrubbed with steel wool.

On top of the fact that she was about to be immersed in the craziness of my relations, anytime she was awake, I found myself being drilled for information. At first, it was for more details about my family, but the last few hours had centered more about me in general. Why did she care about my favorite holiday or color?

She pulled me out of my musing by asking, "All my questions make you uncomfortable, don't they?"

"My nickname is Zip," I pointed out. "That's how my lips usually stay, so I'm just not used to talking so much." That, plus the more we talked, the more I found myself trying to figure out how Stephanie's mind worked. She was a jumble of contradictions. She would readily admit to being afraid of all kinds of things, yet her actions painted her as virtually fearless. She hated exercise, but she worked in a field that demanded her to perform physically. She had an amazing figure, a fact that the thin sheet over her right now did little to cover up, yet she ate nearly as much as I did. Every time I discovered something new about her, I found myself wanting to learn more. It was like being pulled by some kind of gravitational force. You knew you were moving by a power other than your own, yet knowing she was what was sucking me in made me not care at all about fighting it.

I blurted out something that had always bugged me about her. "Why don't you like your gun?" She carried it most of the time, but it was rarely loaded. Basically, she used it to weigh down her purse, which would only make chasing a skip that much harder.

She rolled her eyes at my question. Strangely, that habit of hers, which used to annoy me so much, was beginning to grow on me. It was almost endearing. Oh shit... I thought Stephanie showing me attitude was _endearing_? What kind of man used words like that? Clearly, I needed to find a way to spend some time out of this room.

Before I kicked my mental ass, she spoke up again. "I don't like the way it makes me act."

Not only had not I expected that answer, but I didn't understand it all. She must have noticed my confusion because she offered me a little more information.

"When I don't have a gun and I'm feeling threatened, I find other ways to get out of trouble. But when I have a loaded gun and I think my life is in danger, I pull it out. And the few times I've pulled it out, I've used it, too. Then I have to deal with the guilt of having shot someone…of having _killed_ someone."

"When you shoot, you tend to go for the chest, which is typically a lethal injury," I recalled aloud. "Why don't you ever go for a shot to disable without using lethal force?"

"If I go for their shoulder or leg, the target is so much smaller that I'm afraid I'll miss. Then before I could get another shot off, they could retaliate, and that would be the end of me." Her logic made sense, but she was forgetting something important.

"You know, if you spent time practicing at the range, you could learn to shoot with enough confidence that you could control where the bullet went, and you wouldn't have to kill someone unless the circumstances demanded it."

"Ugghh!" Her response wasn't exactly ladylike or coherent, but after spending as much time talking with her as I had over the last couple of days, I wasn't confused by it, either.

"It doesn't have to feel like working out in the gym," I pointed out. "Shooting in the range can be fun, like a game."

"A game where you pretend to kill people," she bit back.

"No, a game where you learn to use your weapon so you don't necessarily have to kill people," I calmed replied. "I could teach you."

She blinked a few times, as though my answer didn't make sense to her. "I've been nothing but trouble for you since you came to bail me out when my car died. Why would you volunteer to keep up the torture?"

A month ago, if someone had asked, I might have said it was because looking after Stephanie was a standing order at RangeMan. I might have said the better equipped she was at her job meant the fewer times we'd get called to bail her out of scrapes, but neither of those felt honest anymore. "You've grown on me," I said, trying to control my cringe at the way my voice sounded so insecure at the end of the sentence.

I'm not sure what I expected her to say in response to my uncharacteristic honesty, but when she smiled and said, "You've grown on me too," I felt my face curl into a smile.

Hell, when had I become enough of a pussy that I smiled because of cheesy lines from a girl? Before I could come up with an answer, my lack of being aware of my surroundings became apparent when a deep voice said, "I'm so glad you're awake. My son has been hovering over you, keeping us from meeting."

Since he couldn't see my face, I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, willing myself to act calm. But the fact that my mind was going through all kinds of profanities at the fact that my father was standing beside Stephanie's bed, waiting to be introduced to her, was making it hard to say anything at all.

My teeth technically weren't gritted, but my throat was audibly tight when I said, "Pop, this is Stephanie Plum. Stephanie, this is my father, Salvatore Pertucci."

She stuck her hand out, as though I'd just introduced her to the mailman, and yanked some kind of proper etiquette out when she spoke. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I am so sorry to show up unannounced like this and invade your private home."

That did it... Two polite sentences, giving the appearance that she was all sweetness and light, and my father was a goner. He placed his free hand on top of their joined ones and grinned at her. "Think nothing of it. I am happy that my family was able to offer you assistance when you needed it. A lady should never be left to fend for herself, and it pleases me that my son was there for you."

"Zip has always watched over me," she replied, glancing my way and hopefully missing the grimace on my father's face when she used a nickname for me instead of my given name.

"Anthony does like to look out for others," Pop agreed. "He's very protective."

"You guys know I can hear you, right?" I prompted, getting both their attention.

My father laughed and placed a brief kiss on Stephanie's knuckles before returning her hand to the bed. "I came at my wife's insistence. My son Vincent tells me that you are beginning to move around some and could tolerate a move to the family house, where we can accommodate you with greater comfort than this small room can offer."

"Pop," I jumped in, "I don't think Stephanie should be moved."

"Nonsense." My father literally waved me off. "Vincent said if she had been in a hospital, based on her progress over the last two days, he would discharge her today. So, she should be discharged from the basement here to a guest room."

"Stephanie isn't staying in a guest room," I argued, trying to keep my voice even in order to avoid scaring the very woman I was attempting to protect.

"Ah, of course," Pop seemed to agree. "She can stay in your room, and you can take the smaller accommodation in your suite." Then he clapped his hands, as though the whole situation had been settled, and turned to leave.

I was about to inform him that there was no way we were moving her, but Stephanie spoke up, distracting me. "You have a multi-bedroom suite?"

When she put it like that, it did sound like pure opulence, and I guess it was foolish to argue that I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I was the only kid that had a driver drop him off at school every day, not because I rode in a car pool, but because my parents never stooped to driving themselves since we had staff to do that for us.

"Yes," I conceded, "but it isn't as ritzy as it sounds."

"Does it have a window?" she pushed, looking around at the solid walls we'd been confined to since she'd awoken from surgery.

"Yes," Pop answered, seeing the opportunity to sell her on his plan. I might get pissed as hell at him, but I had to respect that he was a shrewd businessman. "It has many windows, and it has a balcony that some might refer to as a porch. You can easily go outside and sit there, if you'd like."

"It's not on the first floor?" she asked, losing her curiosity and looking as though she were nervous about something.

"No," I answered, not sure what was bothering her but hating the look on her face at the moment. "It's on the third floor."

"I'm not sure I can handle stairs," she replied, as though she were crushed to admit the small weakness.

"That is no worry at all," Pop jumped in. "We have an elevator, so you don't have to manage any steps." Feeling as though that piece of information had settled everything, he then turned and announced, "Your mother is cooking dinner, so please be sure you're both settled in time to eat. If you're late, she'll come and get you herself."

While I hated my father's bullish ways, he made a good point in throwing out the threat about my mother. If my father was the head of the family business, my mother was the head of our immediate family, and she ruled with a fist even tougher than his. If we didn't show up for dinner, my mother would literally come and guilt or slap at me until I relented and brought Stephanie to the table. Shit, that settled it. There was no getting out of this now.

When I looked at Stephanie to apologize for what she was about to be forced to endure, she was smiling, as though she were thrilled at the prospect. "Is this the room you grew up in?"

"Technically," I admitted. "But it isn't full of embarrassing baby pictures or anything."

"No, but does it have your high school music collection?" she continued, proving that the man who had succeeded in hiding who he was from the world was about to be stripped of all his diversion methods and mystery. After she moved to the family house, I'd never be Zip in her eyes again.

Three hours later, my brother had taken out Stephanie's IV and gone over everything to look out for after leaving his immediate supervision. Then, before he walked out, he assured us both we wouldn't have to worry because he'd be around to keep a close watch on her while we were there. "I'll even be at dinner tonight," he said, smirking in my direction, obviously enjoying how uncomfortable that made me.

Once he left us alone, I helped Stephanie stand up and lifted the bag with the clothes Bella had brought for her to wear. Now I was kicking my ass for letting Bella leave instead of excusing myself and asking her to help Stephanie get dressed. I was pretty good at getting clothes off a woman, but I had zilch experience putting them back on her.

Seeing my discomfort, Stephanie held out her hand and said, "I'm pretty sure I can do it myself, but I may need some help with my socks and shoes, since bending over is tender with the incision and my ribs."

"I'll be right here," I promised, repeating a pledge I'd made numerous times since we arrived at the compound.

She took the bag from me and moved slowly to the bathroom to change. When she reappeared, she was in a loose pair of pants like sweats without the band at the bottom and a long-sleeved T-shirt. She was holding a pair of socks, and her face held a slight bit more color than it had when she'd left to get dressed. "I'm definitely going to need your help," she confessed, reminding me that Stephanie was about as comfortable relying on people for assistance as I was.

"Come on." I motioned for her to sit on the bed and pulled my chair around so her foot could rest on my knee. One at a time, I pulled on her socks and then slipped on a pair of sneakers, which were either brand new or the ones she'd worn here had been amazingly cleaned, because her usual sneakers were well-worn and broken in.

"Who do I need to repay for the clothes?" she asked.

"No one," I instantly informed her. "And if you offer to pay for them, it will insult whoever picked them out for you."

She made a face that made it apparent she wasn't comfortable accepting gifts like this. I couldn't figure it out, because I thought all women liked getting things. Why was she so opposed to receiving clothes?

"I hate being in people's debt," she softly offered as an explanation. "It gives people a hold over you."

Damn, somebody had a done a number on her. "Sometimes it does," I agreed. "But my family doesn't look at something like this in that way. We have staff who pick up clothes because that's their job. We have more than enough money to cover it, and you can believe me that if somebody wanted to use this as leverage with you, they would have explained it in advance of you accepting the clothes. My family may have a lot of weird ways, but we're very up-front. There are no hidden agendas."

"That's…" She stopped, as though finding a descriptive was proving to be too difficult. Finally, she finished her sentence by saying, "Unexpected."

"Why?" I wondered. "Because we're part of the mob?"

"No," she corrected me. "Because everyone else would expect something in return. Very few people can give freely with no strings of any sort attached. I guess I've just gotten burned too many times from the strings."

Yep, that settled it. When this was all over, I was going to figure out which one of the men in her life had screwed her head and teach them a lesson about how to treat a lady.

"Don't paint them out to be saints," I reminded her. "Just because they can be generous to those in their favor doesn't mean they're some kind of angels."

Her forehead wrinkled at my words, making me ask her what was so confusing. She lifted her eyes, as though the mystery was printed on the ceiling and she just needed to see it to read it off to me. "You seem very loyal to your family, and you obviously love them, yet you are quick to point out all their faults. It's like you don't want me to like them, but you are afraid to be too negative or I might transfer some kind of dislike of your family over to you, as well."

When she finished talking, I scrubbed over my face with my hand and then ran it through my hair, trying to figure out how to respond. "It's complicated."

"Trust me," she jumped in, "I get complicated. My mother is a nagging, interfering, judgmental person. No one knows it better than me. But I also know that she loves me, and even though she is so emotionally stunted, she can't use the words, I know that she cares every time she feeds me or offers to do my laundry. Families are messy and all kinds of messed up, but you don't have to insult them just so that I know you aren't like them."

But that was just it. As much as I wanted to argue the point, I was a lot like them. The fact that I saw so many similarities was what kept me insisting they didn't exist. There was still a fool's chance someone might believe me. When I glanced at Stephanie to argue the point, I noticed she had her face set, which usually meant she'd made up her mind about something and debating the point wasn't going to help. We were at an impasse of sorts, so I decided to take a page from Lester's book and try to diffuse the situation with humor. "Does this mean that you aren't like your grandmother? Because I was kind of looking forward to seeing you get crazier as you aged."

Her lips pressed tighter, and I briefly wondered if she was about to yell at me for insulting her nutty grandmother, but them she cracked up laughing. "I've never admitted this to anybody," she said once she stopped giggling. "I've always admired my grandmother. Sure, she embarrasses me a lot, and I really wish I could figure out a way for her to leave closed caskets alone, but she's listened to my mother's harping for years about acting her age, and she hasn't made a single change. It's like my mother's words don't impact her at all. I wish I could be more like that."

"Yeah, I could use a little of that kind of determination, too," I had to admit. After moment, I asked, "Are you sure you want to go up to the big house?" I wished she'd reconsider so I could tell my parents it was Stephanie, not me, declining their invitation.

"You make it sound like we're going to prison," she teased over my word choice. "But yes, I think it will be fun to have a change of scenery and be able to feel the sun again."

"All right." I tried to accept what she wanted and walked to the corner to get the wheelchair Vincent had left for me to use.

She glared at it briefly, but I didn't budge, so she stood up and made her way over to sit in the chair. I picked up the few personal effects she'd gotten while she'd been recovering and set the bag in her lap.

"My truck is already parked in the garage, so we can either call for one of my father's cars, or I can just push you down the road to the house." I gave her the option. It was only a quarter of a mile, and the weather was unseasonably mild, so I figured she might enjoy the fresh air as much as I would. Being shut up inside had made me a little jumpy. I'd never liked being confined.

We took the elevator up to the main floor, and I pushed her straight out to the ramp on the side of the house. As soon as the sun hit her face, she let out a soft sigh. "Are you sure you can handle pushing me that far?"

I didn't want to justify her question with a response, but since I was standing behind her, I knew she couldn't see the expression on my face telling her how ridiculous her question was. "Leave that to me," I finally replied.

It was obvious she was enjoying the trip down the driveway, so I didn't move too quickly. The path was paved and smooth, which meant I didn't have to worry about jarring her too much. Instead, she rambled about things she saw, and I was able to stay quiet and just enjoy her being happy. One of the things I appreciated so much about spending time with Stephanie was that I never had to work to figure out how she was feeling. It was always plastered on her face and in her voice. And when she was happy like she was right now, it was hard for it not to be contagious. Thank God none of the guys were here, because I knew I was smiling, and they'd never let me hear the end of it if they saw my face.

Once we made the final turn around some trees, she got her first view of the main house. She stopped talking instantly and sucked in a huge breath. "How rich are you?"

That did it; I couldn't help but laugh at her blunt reaction. I tell her I'm the son of a mafia leader, and she has no issues. But reconciling that my family is also loaded, and she struggles to wrap her mind around it.

"I do pretty well," I replied, thinking back over the missions I'd been well-paid to perform and my more than generous salary at RangeMan. "But my parents are definitely well off," I added, hoping she'd understand that I didn't consider my father's money to be my own.

Most of us knew that there were times Stephanie's checking account balance got down to the single digits, and while she had been known to mooch a meal or two off her parents, as far as we knew, she'd never asked anyone for money. She made her own way, and that trait was definitely one I could admire.

It didn't take us long to make it to the back of the house, where the wheelchair ramp was located. "Is someone in your family handicapped?" Stephanie asked as we made our way to the door.

"No," I answered, guessing at why she was asking. "But it's not unusual for the men who work with my father to get injured, so he had all the buildings converted to be handicapped accessible about ten years ago. At the time, it seemed like an extreme move, but it's definitely been used, so I guess it was a good idea."

We entered directly in front of the elevator, so I decided to save a tour of the house for later and move her straight up to my room before we were intercepted. When the doors opened on the third floor, I felt myself relax that for a few more hours, I had her to myself.

We moved down the hall to the front of the house, where my suite was located. One complete side of the house was mine, and my brother occupied an identical suite on the other side of this floor. Fortunately, Vincent and Bella preferred to stay at home, so even though I knew they'd be at dinner, we wouldn't have to put up with them up here, as well.

I stopped pushing as soon as we cleared the doorway, which gave her the chance to get out of the chair and walk around on her own. Someone had opened the room up for us, and the doors to the terrace were open, with the curtains billowing in the breeze. She was drawn straight out there, leaving me to follow in her wake. I did a quick glance around the room to be sure there wasn't anything embarrassing that I needed to put away before Stephanie came back in to look around.

"It's beautiful here," she commented when I joined her outside. I might have wanted to argue the point, but I had to admit, I'd always loved this house. I knew it was ostentatious and overstated, but it held a lot of happy family memories for me, as well, and I always felt at home here.

"It is," I agreed, not seeing a reason to hide how I felt.

"Can we sit out here?" She pointed to the chairs to one side of the porch.

"Of course," I answered, willing to sit anywhere she wanted to if it made her happy.

Once she was settled, I took the chair next to her and looked out over the gardens at the front of the house.

"You like being here," she stated as fact, not really giving me much room to disagree.

"It was a nice place to grow up," I admitted, figuring that was pretty safe.

"Were you a troublemaker?" she wondered, taking advantage of the opportunity to get more information from me.

That was a hard question to answer. "Probably no more than any other kid," I finally replied. "At least when I was young. But when I hit seventeen or eighteen, I got more determined to do things my own way, so I'd bet my parents would say I was a handful then."

"Then you're better than me, because I'm pretty sure my mom would have said I was a handful from birth through the present," she said with a laugh. I could tell she was shooting for lighthearted and flippant, but there was a tightness in her voice that made me think the way her family treated her still hurt, even after all these years. I guess I was lucky in that respect. Despite our near-explosive arguments, I still felt like my family adored me and respected my skills as being valuable. They just felt I was applying them in the wrong area.

"Hey," I said, getting her attention focused on me instead of the far-off place she'd been staring at. "If your mom thought you being a handful was an insult, then it just proves she didn't have the right hands."

Stephanie looked confused, so I lifted one of my hands in the air so she could see it. I had inherited my father's hands, which meant they were big with a grip large enough to singlehandedly choke most people. I'd spent a lot of time honing my hand-to-hand combat skills in the Army because every instructor I had took one look at my hands and decided they could be lethal based on their size alone. It turned out they were right.

Stephanie was looking at my hand lifted in the air with a slight bit of awe on her face.

"Maybe you were a handful for someone with small or limited hands. But to someone with a broader…grip…I think you're just fine like you are."

"You know I could take what you just said in a way that might mean you are being rather forward," she replied with a grin. "But I think you meant it as a compliment, so thank you."

That was why I didn't talk. It was too hard to say the right thing at the right time in a way that didn't get misinterpreted.

"You've got the biggest hands I've ever seen," she spoke once more, almost soft enough that I wasn't positive she intended me to hear.

At her words, I flexed my fingers to form a fist and then opened it again. Stephanie reached out and took my hand in hers, tracing over my knuckles with her fingertips. I gritted my teeth, determined to stay quiet and not make any noise, but damn if it didn't feel good to have her touching me. There was something innocent in how she was running her fingers over mine and looking at my hands with a bit of curiosity.

She snapped me out of my jumbled thoughts by asking, "You know what they say about guys who have big hands, don't you?"

This time, I let myself grin at her question. "That we have big…" I let the sentence hang out there, curious if she'd have the guts to finish the vulgar thought and slightly shocked that she'd brought it up. It certainly wasn't the first time I'd heard it, but coming out of her mouth, it seemed even more forbidden than usual.

She repeated what I'd said before finishing the sentence. "That you have big…rings."

My laughter cracked the air around us, and I wondered briefly how long it had been since I was this relaxed around someone. Before I could get too comfortable, my mother's voice surprised me.

"It's so nice to hear you laughing again, Anthony," she said, effectively ending my good time. I couldn't help but notice that Stephanie's hands, which had been lightly stroking me, were now wrapped around my palm, gripping me tightly.

"Mom," I said, nodding in her direction but not standing up since Stephanie didn't seem to be ready to let go of me.

"Relax," she said, looking between Stephanie and me. "I just came up to say I had Maria pick up some clothes for you both. Dinner will be on the table in one hour, and we're all looking forward to visiting with you both then."

Before I could respond, she spun around, confident that her wishes would be obeyed. I glanced over at Stephanie, who was finally relaxing.

"Wow," she said as a whisper. "I think I'm more afraid of your mom than I was of your dad."

"Yeah," I agreed, figuring honestly as the best policy on this one. "I am, too."


	6. Heaven on Earth

_JE deserves the credit for the characters below._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you, once again, for spending so much time as the beta on the story. _

**Chapter 6 – Heaven on Earth**

"This is a dress," Stephanie said, causing me to spin around to see what she was referring to.

"Nice color," I commented, figuring she didn't actually need me to agree with the obvious.

"You're holding a necktie..." She pointed to the clothing in my hand, causing me to glance down and notice it matched her dress. Thank God I was back to being able to filter my thoughts because I'd never hear the end of it if anybody heard that I'd noticed things like coordinating colors.

Finally, I snapped out of my color palette and offered, "We dress for dinner because you never know who is going to show up and my mom likes the evening meal to be a little nicer."

"Are you sure I should be going to dinner down there?" she asked, looking very unsure of herself. "I mean, I'm not a fancy kind of girl; I'm definitely more of a jeans and pizza-type person."

"So am I," I assured her. "But this isn't my house, so we have to play by their rules."

"I still can't eat everything. What if she serves something I'm not allowed to have?" Stephanie seemed to be building herself up to a full-blown panic attack.

"Then I'll politely tell the server you can't have it, and we'll get you something you can eat. But I doubt that will be a problem," I tried to console her. "My mother is an excellent hostess and would be horrified to think that someone had a special need she'd overlooked. I can guarantee that she's spoken to Vincent and gotten him to approve whatever is on your plate."

Her head tilted to the side as she considered my words. "So there's no way I can beg out of the fancy dinner because of my injuries?"

"Nope." I grinned, figuring if I had to endure this, so did she. "We've had people a lot more injured than you join us for the evening meal, so you have no choice but to suck it up and play along, too."

"Damned expensive co-pay," she huffed under her breath, taking the dress and a small bag into the bathroom with her. I had a feeling she hadn't intended me to hear the last part, so I waited until she shut the door – firmly – before letting the laugh loose.

I was changed and ready to head down in ten minutes, so I paced around the room to avoid sitting too long and having my mother complain about me wrinkling my trousers. I swear that woman could make me feel seven again with just a glance and raised eyebrow. Thirty minutes later, Stephanie stepped out of the bathroom, fidgeting with her dress, even though, to me, it was laying down perfectly.

"You look…great," I said, swallowing between the words and wondering why my mouth was dryer than a desert in a drought. She'd done something with her hair that took away some of the fly-away curls and made them more open so that they framed her face instead of flying around it. I liked it her usual way, but she looked more sophisticated now. The dress was simple and came in at the waist to show off her curves, but wasn't tight enough to catch on her stitches or push against her bruises. I'd never seen her wear something like this and was struck at how feminine she looked. Instead of her trademark gravity-defying heels, she was sporting something that looked like a young ballerina would wear. Once I took in the whole package, I felt the need to amend my first statement. "You're…lovely."

She blushed, honest to God sweet-girl-next-door blushed, at the compliment. "You're looking pretty sharp yourself," she said, moving toward me and reaching out to straighten my tie. "Are we ready?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice to be even yet. I knew I was staring, which was rude, but I couldn't help myself. Seeing her dressed like this was like looking at her for the first time. I liked it when she dressed up and put her body on display as much as the next guy. But if I was honest, seeing her dressed like a real lady was hitting most of my particular buttons. I couldn't speak for every man, but I'd always wanted a woman who could carry herself well in public, but behind closed doors could let loose like a wild woman. I'd seen Stephanie on enough distractions to assume the behind closed doors part would take care of itself, but until this moment, I'd never pictured her with this side, as well. After spending virtually every moment with her over the last couple of days, and now seeing her dressed in exactly the style I loved, I couldn't take my eyes off her. Perhaps it was a good thing we were eating with my entire family so that I didn't do or say something to embarrass myself and make Stephanie uncomfortable.

I held my arm out as an invitation for her to wrap her hand around me. She looked confused at first, but then shrugged and hooked her fingers across my forearm. I bit the inside of my lip to hold back any reaction. I'd never thought of my arms as particularly sensitive, but at the moment, it was as if nerves there were direct wired to my groin. Shit, I needed to think about something else other than the feel of her hands on me and holding her tighter against my side. This was just a reaction to the fact I hadn't gone out and gotten laid in a while, and with all the interaction between us, my body was making the point that it had needs. As soon as we got back to Trenton, this reaction would be go away, and I'd take Les up on his offer to head out to a club the next time one came my way.

We moved slower than usual since Stephanie was still recovering, but she insisted we leave the wheelchair in the suite and walk down. Of course, walking down for her included using the elevator, which reduced the amount of real walking she had to do. The lift was small, not made for industrial loads, and didn't get a great deal of use, so when it began to move down, there was a slight jolt before it smoothed out. I was used to it, but it must have spooked Stephanie because she made a soft noise and tightened down on my arm, stumbling over to be right against my side. I placed my free hand on top of hers and asked if she was all right.

She nodded her head, but she didn't move away. When the doors opened, we were still pressed against each other's sides with our hands touching and resting on my forearm.

My father's voice broke us out of our spell. "Splendid. You're here and looking very well."

Typically, my father escorted guests to the family dinner table, but I hadn't thought to prepare Stephanie for that, so when she tightened her grip on me, I kept my hand on her, hoping it was a comforting gesture and nodded at my father. "Stephanie is a little weak still, so I was going help her get settled at the table instead of going through the den for introductions there."

"Yes, yes, of course," Pop agreed with a wave of his hand, as though clearing the way. "Stephanie, you look wonderful, so it is easy to forget that you are indeed not well."

We moved to the dining room, and as we walked, I leaned toward her ear to speak quietly and explain the tradition of the head of the household bringing guests to the family table as an excuse for why I'd highlighted her being weak still. I knew she hated being the center of attention, but when she mouthed thank you to me, I knew she'd rather be seen as ill than have to lean on my father, which meant I'd made the right decision.

We sat in the family dining room, and I was pleased to see that in addition to my parents, we were only joined by Vincent, Isabella, and my Uncle Antonio. In my mind, it was easy to discount my uncle. He was my father's next to the youngest brother, and if it was possible, he spoke less than I did. I'd grown up seeing him beside Pop nearly constantly, so he didn't feel so much like an extra person at the table as he did an extension of my father.

Pop started talking the second he sat in his chair. "Miss Plum, we are glad to have you join us for dinner. I think you already know my oldest son, Vincent, and his wife, Bella. And my wife, Annalise, tells me you met very briefly this afternoon, which only leaves my brother Antonio for you to be introduced to."

Stephanie nodded at each person as my father introduced them. When he stopped talking, she smiled, slightly tighter than her usual grin, and announced that she was happy to officially meet everyone. Then she thanked us for our hospitality in letting her come here when she needed a place to recover.

As soon as she stopped talking, my mother made a small gesture with her hands, and the servers came forward with a first course soup and decanters full of red wine, which I knew would flow through the entire meal. When a small glass bottle was placed directly beside Stephanie's wine glass, she looked at me, as though wondering why she was given her own vintage that no one else was given.

My brother chuckled and answered the unasked question. "It's grape juice. I told my mother no alcohol for you this week."

Vincent speaking brought everyone's attention in our direction. As if on cue, Stephanie blushed once more, and I watched my parents' expressions shift in what could only be described as looks that proved Stephanie had converted them easily and recruited two new members to her vast fan club.

Each course was served with its usual flare, with Stephanie given a dietary appropriate option that was reduced in fat and salt to better accommodate her system so soon after surgery. Halfway through the main course, she leaned toward me and quietly asked, "Who are the men standing at the windows?"

It was a testament to the fact I'd grown up in this world that I hardly recognized the men as being a part of what I knew my family would have called a small intimate meal. "For lack of a better description, they're my father's body guards."

"Wouldn't it be safer if they stood between the windows instead of directly in front of them? Any sniper out there could get to them without any warning," she pointed out, surprising me that she'd considered their safety so clearly.

"If one was trying to save the guards' lives, then yes, avoiding windows would be a good idea. But if there is a sniper out there, it's probably here to get to my father, so one of the guards dropping from a gunshot wound would be the first indication that there was trouble," I explained.

"Is he really in that much danger?" she asked, apparently just now coming to terms with how dangerous it was to be a part of this family.

I decided honesty was the right approach here. "It's hard to say... I'm not aware of anyone new wanting him dead or any plots to make it happen. But there are plenty of people already who wish he didn't hold the control he does in the gambling industry, so it wouldn't be unheard of for an attempt on his life to be made without us getting wind of it first."

She glanced in turn at each man, dressed in their identical black suit, white dress shirt, and black tie. "Who's the guy on the far right?" she asked, letting her eyes linger on the man I didn't know.

I shrugged, not really knowing many of the names of my father's guards anymore. "Why?" I asked, uncertain as to why she was singling him out to ask about. I liked to think I was secure enough that the hollow feeling in my chest wasn't jealousy, but having never felt this before, I couldn't be sure.

Her head shook, but I didn't feel as though she was blowing off the question. "He looks really familiar, but I can't put my finger on why."

"If he works for my father, he's probably Italian, so you could have seen him anywhere," I told her, attempting to divert her attention.

"Maybe," she agreed without looking at all convinced. After not speaking for a few minutes, she leaned closer to me and asked, "Do you have a RangeMan laptop here?"

Now it was my turn to look confused. "You think he's a skip?" That didn't seem possible because I knew my father's security team did a full background check on everyone that worked here.

"No, not a skip, but someone I saw when I was looking up someone else," she explained, her eyes still cutting over to the window to catch occasional glances in an attempt to jog her memory.

"I'll see if we can work something out later," I promised, hoping it would end the conversation since our sidebar comments back and forth seemed to be drawing attention in our direction.

"Stephanie," my mother interrupted. "Tell us a little about yourself."

Stephanie set her fork down and used the napkin in her lap to wipe over her lips, stalling for a minute to gather her thoughts. Then she straightened up to sit a little taller in her chair and began giving the boiled-down version of her life to my parents. Both of them were eating out of her hands.

When she finished giving her overview, my father laughed. "Come now, Miss Plum. You underestimate yourself. I've read about your career, and you seem to have a real gift to always getting your man."

"I don't always get them," she clarified, "and even when I'm successful, I don't always do it with the grace that Zip and the guys manage."

"You do just fine," I argued, defending her from her own doubts about her skills.

And damn it all if she didn't blush again. I'd had no idea how unaccustomed she was to receiving a compliment. Every time I said something like that, her cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink. I wasn't sure which I liked better: watching her face when it was like this, or walking with her hand on my arm.

"There, my son agrees with me, so we must be right," Pop announced, as though the issue were now closed simply because he'd said so. In most cases, that wasn't too far from the truth. Of course, this was Stephanie we were talking about, and few things about her qualified as most cases.

"Well, I was taught to never disagree with my host, but I think Zip may be biased," she said with a smile.

"In his family home, we refer to him by his given name of Anthony," my father corrected her, not unkindly, but in a way that made it clear my work name wasn't going to be accepted here.

"Of course, I'm sorry," she apologized with a slight tilt down of her head, as though attempting to show her contrition. "Had I known earlier that he had such a lovely name, I certainly would have used it." Then the little vixen looked away from my father and directly at me to wink quickly.

Now it was my turn to blush.

"You are certainly a breath of fresh air, Miss Plum."

It was her turn to correct him, "Stephanie, please."

The rest of the meal proceeded as usual, with us debating politics, complaining about current events, and then listening to my father rant on about what was wrong with the generation coming up today that didn't know the value of an honest day's work. It was all I could do not to stand up and walk out at that point because I was convinced that, while my father had always worked hard, I didn't feel like what he did for a living could really be classified as honest work.

Almost as if she knew what I was thinking, Stephanie placed a hand on my wrist. She was like a superhero with the power to make an uptight person relax all their muscles with just a simple touch of her hand. I felt the tension run out of my body almost instantly. With her free hand, she moved my wine glass around my now empty plate, suggesting I have a drink. Since I knew I wasn't going anywhere tonight, I didn't see why I shouldn't have more. The Chianti was one of my favorite wines, and I felt like making my brain a little fuzzier might help the evening pass more smoothly.

My mother had commissioned a reduced fat cannoli for Stephanie and full fat versions for the rest of us. She looked uncertain but politely took a bite when the rest of us did and then sat back in her chair with a big smile on her face. It wasn't until her third bite that one of her trademark moans broke free. The eyes on every head at the table and all the guards around the room fell on Stephanie. When she looked up from her dessert, she noticed that she had drawn all the attention and instinctively leaned closer to me. "I did that out loud, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," my father announced with a huge smile. "And I have to say it is such a relief to finally have another person in the house who isn't afraid to express their love of good food. I only wish our cook had been able to pull out all the stops for you this evening. Although Vincent tells us that you should be able to try anything you'd like tomorrow."

An hour later, I could tell that Stephanie was getting tired. She was moving as though uncomfortable in her straight back chair, and she didn't appear to be tracking the conversation anymore. "Are you ready to head upstairs?" I asked her softly, trying to let her make the decision of when we left.

"Would it be okay?" she asked. "I don't want to insult their hospitality."

"Mom and Pop," I said, getting the attention back on our side of the table. "I think it's time for Stephanie and me to retire. It's been a long day, and she needs to rest now."

We said our goodbyes, and I stood to pull her chair back from the table. We took three steps from the dining room before she slightly stumbled against me. I put an arm around her waist to steady her and felt her leaning into me for support, as well. Without even thinking about it, I moved to lift her up in my arms, as though she were a bride.

"I'm too heavy," she objected.

"Put your head on my shoulder and your arms around my neck," I instructed, not even bothering to acknowledge her comment about her weight. She did as I'd asked her to and then let out a sigh that I thought was one of the sweetest sounds I'd ever heard. That settled it... I was totally screwed here. Real men didn't think of things like sweet sounds and bridal carries. I needed to get through the next few days of her recuperation and then find the biggest, ugliest, most violent skip and take them down single-handedly to reclaim some of my apparently lost manhood.

When we got to my suite, Maria was walking out. "I laid out your night clothes, Mr. Pertucci."

I acknowledged her with a nod but didn't speak. In some ways, it was a relief to know I could still be aloof around other people, even if being with Stephanie seemed to make me chatty.

"Do you ever pick out your own clothes, or does someone always lay them out for you?" Stephanie asked with more of a curious tone than a humorous one.

Since she wasn't picking on me, I decided to answer her. "When I was little, they were always laid out for me. This time, I think she's doing it because neither of us came with luggage, so all of our clothes are new and are being provided as we need them." I paused for a minute, and then my mouth began working on its own once more. "That, plus Maria has been around for years, and even though she wasn't my nanny, she has always been with the family, so I think it's her way of checking on me to be sure I have everything she thinks I need."

I was about to set her down to manage the door to my suite, when Stephanie did a little burrowing motion with her face against my neck. A man would have to be dead to not appreciate Stephanie pressing any part of her body against theirs. That was all it took to make me hesitant to put her down, so when I saw the door was ajar, I used my foot to ease it open and carried her in.

The sitting room had been closed up again, so there was no breeze coming in from outside as there had been this afternoon, but Maria had obviously turned on some soft, slow jazz for background music. I found her attempt to create a domestic scene for us amusing, but managed to keep my chuckles to myself.

Seeing we were in the room, Stephanie lifted her head and glanced around before pulling back, basically letting me know the time when I could hold her to me was coming to an end. It was probably for the best because guys like me didn't get girls like Stephanie, and it was a bad idea for me to pretend otherwise.

"Your clothes should be on the bed through there," I instructed, pointing to the larger bedroom.

Having watched her walk away to be sure she was steady on her feet, I turned to the smaller bedroom once she disappeared from my view. My trip to this room was pointless, as there were no pajamas or casual clothes anywhere to be found. Before I could look in the closet to see if something was hanging in there for me, Stephanie's voice snapped my attention to the doorway.

"What kind of relationship does your family think we have?"

"We haven't discussed it," I confessed. "They know we're friends obviously and that we work together, but I haven't suggested that anything more exists. Why?"

As I finished speaking, I noticed the clothes in her hand. She appeared to have a thin, see-through robe that might come down to the middle of her thighs. Why she would even bother with it was a mystery to me, since it obviously wouldn't keep her warm due to its thin material, and it wasn't there to provide for her sense of modesty, as everything she might wear under it would still be on display. In her other hand, she had what I believed was technically called a nightie. There wasn't much material at all, though I guessed it would cover up most of the vital areas. Both items were an off-white shade and reminded me of something a woman might want to wear on her wedding night. It was definitely not appropriate for two friends just sharing a room because of circumstances.

"Did she put any clothes for me on the bed?" I asked, hoping the answer would be yes.

"There's a pair of silk pants," she reported.

"Silk pants?" I repeated, wondering what in the hell had possessed Maria to buy those for me. She knew I hated silk pajamas on principal alone because my father wore them. I was a flannel lounge pants or sweats kind of guy. "Would you like to wear those instead?"

Stephanie laughed at my suggestion, and when I raised an eyebrow to question what she seemed to find so funny, she bent slightly at the waist to laugh even harder. "What?" she started, finally finding her voice. "Do you want to trade pajamas?" With that question, she held out her hands, offering me the lingerie.

"It's not really my color," I replied, taking it from her hands and leading her back to the master bedroom. Back in my bedroom, I walked over to the dresser and opened a few drawers until I found a few T-shirts and pulled out a couple to toss on the bed for her to choose from. Then I found some boxers that I knew would be too big but might work. "Would any of this be better?"

"Perfect." She smiled, dropping the naughty nightie and picking up my T-shirt and boxers before walking into the bathroom to change.

I took advantage of her absence and quickly took off my jacket and tie to hang them up. I kicked off my dress shoes while I pulled out my cuff links and unbuttoned my shirt. I was standing there in just my slacks when the bathroom door opened and Stephanie came out, practically swallowed up with my clothes but looking about as good as I'd ever seen her look.

Suddenly, I wasn't convinced that she was in the more appropriate outfit, because everything about her in this moment was calling out to me. Her freshly washed face, her hair loose around her shoulders, her bare feet with one set of toes on top of the other, as though they were trying to keep from receiving any attention, and of course, my clothes on her... It all made me want to lift her up once more and hold her to me all night.

I shook my head to get those definitely inappropriate thoughts out of there and grabbed the silk pants that Maria had laid out for me. At the moment, even having to dress as a mini-me to Pop was better than the direction my thoughts were going. I might have legendary control, but every man had a breaking point, and looking at Stephanie dressed like that was causing me to hurdle toward mine.

It took me less than five minutes to finish in the bathroom and come back out. Fortunately, Stephanie was already in bed, propped up on the pillows. She looked so small in my king-sized bed.

"Where are you going?" Her voice cracked at the end of her question.

Hanging up the trousers I had been wearing, I explained that the other bedroom in the suite was where I'd planned on sleeping. She looked disappointed at that, which confused me. Had she hoped I would be farther away than that? Did she need a break from my constant attention? Before I could announce that I was going to stay on the second floor in a guest room, she spoke up.

"This is a pretty big bed."

"Yeah, my parents believe in getting the biggest and best of everything," I confessed.

When I took a few steps toward the door, she called out once more. "You know, I've gotten used to you being around me."

"Have I smothered you?" I wondered and then tried to school my features so that my disgust over a word like smothered wouldn't show.

"No," she quickly answered. "Do you think…I mean, since the bed is so big…technically this is your room…" I knew there was a question in there somewhere, but she was really struggling to find it. While she sputtered around, it hit me what she wanted.

"How about I stay in here tonight," I suggested, getting a grin in return. "That way, you might sleep better in a strange place if you know someone is close enough to watch over you."

She pulled the covers back with enthusiasm, obviously accepting my offer. Of course, she pulled them back far enough that I could see her once again lying in my bed, wearing my clothes, half naked and being about as sexy as a woman could be. I'd basically just volunteered for a tour of purgatory. Being with Stephanie was like heaven. Having to keep a tight reign over my own body and urges was pure hell. Being caught in the middle was what I imagined the limbo of purgatory to be like. But seeing the expression on her face made my legs carry me over to the open side of the bed and crawl in next to her.

I turned off the lamp beside me, plunging the room into darkness. After about thirty seconds, I felt the bed move as Stephanie made her way over to my side. I lifted my arm, giving her the choice of where she wanted to be, and she immediately plastered herself along my side, with her head on my chest.

This was a temporary situation, where I was trying to atone for the sin of having failed to protect this woman, but at the moment, it certainly felt as though my reward was far greater than my actions had earned. And when she sighed and relaxed against me, I knew that despite my earlier ponderings, this was about as close to heaven on Earth as a man like me could get. Resting my arm on her to hold her against me, I decided just for the night, I'd enjoy it, because I could live to be a hundred, and never hold an angel this close again.


	7. Conversations Best Held at Night

_I deserve no credit for any of the characters below. That all goes to JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) I can't say enough good things about your beta skills and your willingness to work with me. Thank you is the best I can offer._

**Chapter 7 – Conversations Best Held at Night**

Jolting awake, I opened my eyes to see what had startled me. It was still pitch black outside, and the house was quiet. Before I could figure out what had happened, an arm landed on my abdomen, reminding me I wasn't sleeping alone. Remembering that fact, it was quickly apparent what had woken me up. Stephanie was being relatively quiet, but she was having a nightmare, and based on her moves, she was trying to fight off some kind of attack.

I called her name and attempted to soothe the dream away, but she only seemed to fight harder. She was moving enough that I was afraid she would hurt herself and undo what Vincent had done to put her back together, so I spoke louder and firmer while gripping her shoulders and giving her a very gentle shake. She bolted up in bed with a soft cry before looking around in the darkness, trying to get her bearings.

Once I was sure she was awake, I moved to sit up next to her and spoke softly. "It's okay, Stephanie," I promised. "You were having a dream, but you're awake now, and I'm right here."

"Zip?" she asked, her voice sounding so small, it made a place deep in my chest ache.

"Right here," I responded.

"Everything's okay," she repeated back what I had said, trying to talk herself into calming down. "I'm sorry I woke you up," she said a little firmer. "Shit, I've been nothing but a hassle for you, haven't I?"

"You can stop that right now," I jumped in, unsure if her question had been rhetorical or not but unable to leave it out there unanswered. "Everything I've done has been because I wanted to do it. I'm here because I want to be, and I'm not leaving your side."

She turned to look at me, but with little moonlight coming in the room, it was probably hard for her to make out much about my expression. "You are the nicest man I've ever known."

That couldn't be further from the truth. "I doubt that," I disagreed.

When the silence stretched out for a few moments, I scooted back so that I could lean against the headboard and then reached out to touch her shoulders, pulling them gently in the hope she would understand that I wanted her to rest against me. She moved gingerly, reminding me that even though she was doing really well, she'd still had surgery just a few days ago, and after all that flailing around, she was probably really tender at the moment. "Do you want me to grab you something for the pain?"

"No," she quickly responded. "I hate the fuzzy feeling it gives me. If I'm still for a while, it will go away."

I found my mouth doing the work that I would usually leave undone and invited her to move closer against me. "Come here." She hesitated for only a moment before relaxing against my side, fitting perfectly there so that I could keep my arm around her in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Enough time passed without a response that I had begun to think her answer had been no. Before I could tell her it was all right and remind her I was there and happy to listen if she changed her mind, she began to speak.

"It was that final run in with Nick."

"What did you see in him?" I blurted out, only half sorry that I'd asked. I knew the question probably made her uncomfortable, but none of us at RangeMan could figure out what had pulled those two together, and quite frankly, I was curious.

"Initially, he was friendly and very attentive, and he wasn't from RangeMan, so he seemed safe," she said in a jumble.

"Are we that bad?" I asked, cringing at the adolescent crack at the end of the question.

"No, of course not," she was quick to respond. "But I know I'm just the little sister or the entertainment for you guys, which is fine, but sometimes, I need more, and since none of you were willing to be that, I knew I needed to find someone that wasn't a part of RangeMan if I ever wanted to go out on a date again."

"Wait a minute..." I knew it was bad form to interrupt someone who was telling a story, but I had to know. "What do you mean _entertainment?_"

She made a noise that was a mixture of a snort and a groan. "It's just something Ranger said to me once."

"What did he say?" I prompted when she didn't seem to be offering any more information.

"He said he had me as a line in his budget under entertainment," she replied, her voice sounding hurt even to my untrained ears.

"Why would he say that?" I couldn't help but wonder. All of us had wondered what the deal was between those two, and quotes like that made it even more confusing.

She shrugged at my question, as though she had no idea, either. "Ranger has always been honest with me. He was clear up front that we'd never have a real relationship. He has been a mentor, a great friend, and even a savior, but he draws the line at us having a relationship. I figured he'd made some kind of announcement to the guys about me being off limits too, since I'm great to hang out with, but I'm definitely not bring-home-to-your-mother material."

I couldn't stop myself from laughing at her concluding comment. "For the record, my mother is a huge fan. And based on what Maria bought for you to wear to bed, they are all hoping to see a lot more of you in the future."

There was no response for a few seconds, and then she turned her head more into my shoulder, as though hiding her embarrassment, and laughed.

When she calmed down, I tried to get her back on track. "Okay, so you and Ranger were never together, even though all of us at RangeMan thought you were."

"Wait, you guys thought we were an item?" she wondered.

"Sure." I didn't figure it was a secret. "That's the only reason most of us stayed away from you romantically."

"If you'd known the truth, would you have asked me out?" she asked boldly, the darkness giving her a form of courage.

I shrugged, wishing I didn't have to answer her. "If I'd known the truth, I certainly would have wanted to go out with you."

Her head tilted slightly. "You would have wanted to ask me out, but you wouldn't have acted on it?"

Damn, sometimes her ability to pick up on the little inconsistencies was a pain in the ass. "Probably not."

"Oh."

Barely a syllable out of her mouth, and I could tell I'd hurt her with my comment.

"Not because I don't want to be with you, but because you're…well, you're wonderful. And my life with my family connections and my need to keep it all hidden from the guys in Trenton really doesn't seem like the best way to start something right, so I figured it would be best to not even try. I might wish it were different, but wishing doesn't change who I'm related to."

"No, it doesn't," she agreed. She had enough family baggage of her own that I knew she understood the point. "But I already know all about your family connections, and I've promised to help you keep it hidden from the guys in Trenton if that's what you want, so you've already overcome your primary objections."

She was good. In less than five seconds, she'd diffused every argument I'd made over the years to stay distant from women. Hell, with her skills, I was surprised she'd never worn Ranger down and convinced him he was wrong about not wanting to be with her.

"Anyway, I went out with Nick because he asked, and he seemed nice and didn't have any ties to the 'Burg." She switched the subject so fast, I'd forgotten this had started by me asking about the man who hurt her. "It wasn't until the last ten days that I started seeing a different side of him."

"Did he threaten you?" I practically growled. Most women would have been afraid of that sound, but Stephanie lifted a hand and rested it over my abs. She didn't move it; she just let it lie there, calming me without saying a word.

"Not directly – well, not until I decided to end things. Then he just flipped out. He said I was ruining everything he'd worked so hard for and that I didn't have a choice but to be with him because he wasn't going to let me screw up his plans. I had no idea what he was talking about, and then he started hitting me…and I wasn't listening anymore because…I thought he was going to kill me." There was a little hiccup at the end of the sentence that nearly broke my heart.

"You can't kill him," she commanded, even through her tears.

"He can't be left to live," I told her, knowing it was true.

"But you would go to prison, and he's not worth it," she argued. "_I'm_ not worth that."

"Trust me... If anything is worth doing time for, it would be protecting you," I argued before stating what I knew to be true. "But I wouldn't go to prison."

"_Grrrr..._" She growled at me like some kind of irritated kitten, wanting to show their frustration, but sounding more adorable than intimidating. I was thankful the darkness covered up my smile. "What is it about men that makes you think you can evade the law?"

"It's got nothing to do with my gender. We're good at hiding things if necessary because of the training we get from RangeMan that teaches us to come and go undetected," I reminded her before adding, "And if I didn't want to get my hands dirty, do I need to remind you that my family didn't get to be at the head of the mafia food chain by asking people nicely when they did something we didn't like? There are people on staff whose sole job it is to take out those who attempt to cross my father. They've worked for us for years without ever getting one of their assignments traced back to them."

"You really want to eliminate Nick, don't you?" she asked, seemingly clueless. When I agreed that I did, she asked the question I wished she'd left unspoken, "Why?"

I ran my free hand over my face and up through my hair. "He hurt you." I didn't think she'd let it go, but the minimalist approach was worth a try.

"Lot's of people have hurt me. I get hit, thrown down, knocked down, and dumped on at least once a week when I'm picking up skips," she pointed out. "What's different about Nick?"

"He hurt you." I knew I was repeating myself, but I didn't know how else to say it.

"I think we covered that," she replied dryly.

"He hurt you…on purpose, for the reason of making you suffer," Knowing she wasn't going to accept the same basic answer, I decided to add onto it this time. "Look, you're…good. Shit, I'm not good at this talking stuff."

"You're doing fine. Don't stop," she pleaded, resting her head against me once more, as though she were perfectly willing to take all the time in the world if necessary while I got my act together.

"When you go after a skip and get hurt, it pisses me off, but other than roughing up the skip to teach them a lesson about hurting you. I let it go because it is a risk of the job when you deal with criminals. But the guy you're dating…he's supposed to treat you like…damn, I don't know, like you're a queen. He should be the one threatening the rest of the world if they even think of looking at you funny. So to think that the one guy you should trust the most is the one that intentionally hurt you means there is something inherently wrong with him. He crossed a line that's not… He can't do that and expect to see another day. He tried to take out one of the best things in the world, so he lost his right to live." I was screwing this up by rambling.

"Wait, what was the best thing he tried to take out? Do you mean trust?" She was still confused.

"No, Stephanie," I corrected her. "He tried to take you out. You're one of the brightest things in the world."

She was silent for a minute, and I thought she was letting my words sink in until she said, "How much wine did you drink tonight?"

"Enough to loosen my tongue, but not enough to jumble my thoughts," I told her honestly.

"_Hmph._" She didn't seem to agree, but let it go, moving a little more to somehow get even closer to me. "Why have we never talked much before this?"

"I'm not exactly known as a talkative person," I reminded her.

"You have been around me," she pointed out. "Since I got hurt, we've really done nothing but talk."

"It's easier when it's just the two of us and no one else is around," I admitted. "Plus, we've been kind of isolated, which makes it feel more natural. If we were in Trenton, around the office, I probably wouldn't chatter so much."

"Does this mean that when we go back, I should expect you to ignore me?" Her voice sounded different, and I wasn't sure why. If I had to guess, I'd say she was upset about the idea of us not being so close.

"You know this isn't reality, right?" I asked, feeling her tense up against me. Obviously, I'd just said the wrong thing. "What I mean is, things will be different when we go back, but that doesn't mean I will ignore you." She relaxed a little, so I probably should have led with the second sentence instead of the first one.

"What does that mean?" she asked, turning her head, as though trying to see me again in the darkness.

I hated being put on the spot. Of course, I hated being a pussy even more, and my hesitance was more about being uncomfortable than not having an answer. Since there was no way I was going to refuse to answer and then have to explain that it was because this tiny slip of a woman scared me in some way, I decided to man up and lay it out there. "It means I like you, and I like spending time with you. So in Trenton, if you want to get together and hang out, or eat, or catch a movie, then I'm definitely up for that. But if you expect me to call you on the phone and drone on and on about my day, that's not happening."

"That's probably for the best," she admitted. "Because if you started droning about something, I would assume I was being set up and you were tagged as the distraction."

As much as I might have liked to argue the point, she was probably right. Just as I let my head rest against the headboard on the bed, she added, "I like you, and I like spending time with you, too."

Instinctively, my arms tightened around her, but I didn't dare open my mouth and risk saying something stupid. I wasn't convinced that silence had any part of valor, but during moments like this, it had always served me well.

Her breathing began to even off, and I figured she was either just about asleep or nearly there, when my damn mouth opened up and asked her, "Why do you like spending time with me?"

When she didn't respond, I figured I'd dodged a bullet and she hadn't heard me at all. Just as my eyes closed so that I could follow her example and get some shut eye, she seemed to mumble, "Because you get what it means to trust."

Instantly, my eyes bolted open. Was she just talking in her sleep, or was that an answer to my question? Either way, what did she mean by it? I got what it meant to trust. Hell, I trusted so few people, I wasn't entirely convinced that was true. Of course, while Stephanie was usually surrounded by people, I couldn't exactly pull up a long list of people that I'd say she trusted with everything. As strange as it sounded, we weren't that different in that one respect.

By the time the sun rose, I wasn't sure I'd gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep. Most of the night, I'd spent overanalyzing her nighttime confession that may or may not have even been intended for my ears. I recognized the moment she began to wake up because she tensed up slightly and then began to stretch. I could tell she was holding back some because when she tried to arch her back, she grimaced a little, as though it were uncomfortable. As strange as it was to have visions of taking out someone at eight o'clock in the morning, every time her injuries made themselves apparent, I was hit with a fresh wave of wanting to hunt Nick down and bring the kind of justice my family and RangeMan alike would approve of.

Before I could get too far lost in my dream of revenge, her voice, deeper than usual from sleeping, spoke up. "Good morning, Anthony."

I was officially in trouble now. No one outside my family had used my given name in years, and since I came here so rarely and usually slightly under duress, I only had negative associations with hearing my name spoken aloud. But the moment Stephanie said it, my body took notice, and something felt like it was literally shifting under my ribs. It wasn't painful; in fact, I kind of liked it. I just wish I knew what the hell it was and why it was giving me a rising problem that I needed to take care of before Stephanie noticed.

"Good morning," I nearly grumbled in return.

Stephanie's eyes opened at that, and she turned her head a little to see me better. "Are you not a morning person?" She sounded hopeful.

I shrugged, unsure how to answer it. "My people skills are pretty rough all the way around, so I don't think I can blame it on the time of day."

My response only seemed to make her smile grow. "I'm so glad I'm not the only person that doesn't bounce out of bed, jumping with excitement to greet a new day."

No, I'd never been accused of jumping out of bed with excitement just because it was a new day. That required a certain rosy disposition that I'd never possessed. Before I could come up with something to say, her stomach let out a sound that would have had me reaching for my gun if I'd been anywhere else. Instantly, her face was red, and I found myself smiling.

"I think we'd better get dressed so that we can grab some breakfast downstairs," I offered, not wanting to make a joke the way Lester no doubt would have. "Then we can talk about what you want to do today."

She sat up slowly at that, and once she was standing, she asked, "What can I do today?"

Hell, I wasn't a social planner. "Vincent said you need to spend some time walking, so I can give you a tour of the house and grounds if you want." That much seemed easy, but after those few hours were finished, I had no idea what else to suggest. "Is there anything you're interested in?"

"Yes." She'd spoken quickly, reaching her hands to the ceiling in an attempt to get the last bit of the stretch out she didn't finish in the bed. It was hard to split my attention between her words and her actions, so I was relieved that she didn't speak again until she was done moving. "I want you to help me plan my revenge against Nick."

My face must have shown that I was totally confused about what she was asking, because she explained a little more. "I was going to try to pretend this whole thing didn't happen, but then I had that dream last night and realized that not only had he tried to kill me, but he was robbing me of my ability to sleep and trying to use you guys as leverage to force me to keep my mouth shut. I can handle not telling anybody, but if I try to pretend this didn't happen, then I'll be living in fear and looking over my shoulder constantly, which means I'll be having nightmares on a near constant basis." Her eyes narrowed before she said, "And where does that son of a bitch get off threatening you guys? I mean, if the roles were reversed, and one of your enemies threatened me, you wouldn't hesitate to take them out, would you?"

Without even thinking my answer through, I blurted out, "Stephanie, they'd be dead before they finished their sentence, if someone even attempted to threaten you."

"Exactly." She seemed to be picking up a full head of steam now. I usually found anger to be an emotion I could relate to, so I might have considered this a good thing, but on Stephanie, it still seemed off somehow. I just couldn't put my finger on why. "So, if you guys would stop at nothing to protect me, then why shouldn't I return the favor and do the same thing? I have to take out Nick."

"Whoa!" Now I understood why her emotions were concerning me. Stephanie was a lot of things, but a premeditated, cold-blooded killer was definitely not one of them. "If you're willing to take out Nick, then why don't we talk about how far you're willing to go, and then you and I can come up with a plan that I'll be glad to carry out for you? There's a big difference between taking a life when yours is in immediate danger and just walking in and shooting somebody."

"I know, but Nick isn't going to let this go," she argued, stating what I considered to be the obvious.

"No, Stephanie, he's not." I had to agree with that point. "He needs to be dealt with." Unsure I was making my point, I moved around the bed to stand right in front of her so she would look at me directly to see the sincerity on my face. "I want you to help me plan it, but I want to be the one to finish this for you. Don't put this kind of thing on your conscience."

"Why should you have to put it on yours?" she asked, pushing back, but not with as much force as she had been using.

"Because I've already got so much shit on my head, one more isn't going to matter," I explained. "Plus, I can turn it off when the situation calls for it. And to protect you, I can absolutely turn off my human side and hunt him down like the animal he is."

"But you'll have to turn your human side back on at some point, and then what?" she wondered, showing more concern for me than I'd ever received.

Hell, death was so much a part of my family's lives that I didn't think they would ever even think to ask if my tours of duty and missions for the government had left me with any wounds that a doctor could never heal. I wasn't sure what to do with the tenderness she was using in thinking about me. I tried to shrug it off, but she stepped into me and put her arms around my waist. Instinctively, my arms went around her back, pulling her closer to me. What the hell was going on with me? First, I'd started by talking, then I'd shared all my guarded secrets, and now I was clinging to her, as though I were some sort of emotionally needy girl.

It took me a minute to remember she'd asked me a question, so I struggled to come up with some kind of response. "When I turn it back on, I'll be able to sleep at night, knowing you're safe and free to live your life without looking over your shoulder all the time."

Before Stephanie could respond, the door to my room opened, and my mother was standing there grinning at us holding onto each other like a couple of hormonal teenagers.

"Mother!" I called out, not sure why she'd barged in without at least knocking.

She waved off my attempt at indignation and replied, "I just wanted to be sure you two had everything you needed. I've got meetings in town most of the day and won't be around if Stephanie needs something. Maria has laid out some clothes for you, and I've left instructions with the kitchen for your meals to be prepared as Vincent directed. Your father will be around most of the day with some business associates coming to his office this afternoon."

Making a mental note to keep Stephanie as far away from the house this afternoon as possible, I nodded at my mother, who looked like a kid who'd just gotten their most hoped-for gift on Christmas morning. "Was there something else?" I asked, following her line of vision and realizing that since she'd walked in, Stephanie and I hadn't backed away from each other. I was about to feel good about Stephanie electing to hold onto me when frightened, but then I realized I had a death grip on her, forcing her body against mine so that she couldn't step away, even if she'd wanted to.

"No, it's just so good to have you home," my mother answered, oozing more charm in our direction. "And it is so nice to meet your Stephanie."

Before I could explain that Stephanie definitely wasn't mine, my mother turned around and left us, shutting the door behind her.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out when we were alone.

"For what?" Something was amusing Stephanie about that whole episode.

"For my mother not understanding what boundaries are and for forcing you to stand up against me the whole time she was here."

My words only made her laugh harder. "I'll give you the boundaries thing, but you have to understand that even with that brief interruption, you've still got a whole lot more privacy here than would ever be possible at my parents' house, so I didn't think anything of it."

My hands finally managed to let go of her back, and I took a step away, which only amused her more. "As for you holding me to you, I was honestly relieved to be able to hide beside you a little so that she couldn't see all of me. I'm not exactly known for being presentable when I first wake up, and I didn't want to scare the poor woman, so I was basically using you as a human shield. To be accurate, I probably owe you an apology."

"Use me all you want," I blurted out, instantly feeling like an ass for how twisted that sounded.

This time, she went from mild amusement to full-throttle laughing at me. "Don't put things on the table unless you mean them, Zip."

Then, she spun on her heel and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and leaving me there to wonder what she'd meant by that. And why did hearing her call me Zip instead of Anthony leave me feeling disappointed?


	8. A Little Digging

_JE gets the credit…I get the fun. I'm good with that._

_Jenny (JenRar) I feel like I should add that you get the work as the beta, and once again I get the fun. It seems unfair, but I really appreciate all you do._

**Chapter 8 – A Little Digging**

"Drink?" my father asked, holding out a decanter that I knew was filled with Chianti.

Glancing at my watch to make a point that it was barely an hour past lunch time, I declined his offer with a shake of my head.

"What was it you sought me out to discuss?" he asked, settling himself beside me on the sofa in his office. Typically, when Pop met with people, he sat either at his desk or in the straight back chair that gave him a king on the throne look. But when he met with me, we always shared the sofa. I'd once asked him why he did that, and he'd told me we were family and he didn't need to impress me or remind me who was in charge. I wasn't entirely sure I bought that, but it still felt nice to have the appearance that we were more equals than him lording over me.

Now that I was beside him and he was looking at me expectantly, I suddenly found myself at a loss for words. Deciding if I didn't speak up soon, he'd assume I'd become an idiot, I led with the easier request. "Can I take one of your loaded laptops for Stephanie to perform a background check?"

His forehead wrinkled, and I knew I'd surprised him. "Of course," he replied without pausing too long. "You know anything in my power to give you is yours." Then he took a short drink from his glass before asking, "Can I ask why she needs to do this now?"

I should have known I wouldn't be allowed to lead the conversation for long. "Stephanie is known around my office as having a strange kind of sense about people. She rarely forgets a face and is able to piece together connections that most other people miss." Pop was nodding as I spoke, clearly not put off by my inability to describe Stephanie's gifts in tracking people down through the system. "Anyway, one of your guards is bugging her, and she wants to do a little digging to see if she can figure out why."

"Who is it?" Pop demanded to know.

"Constantine," I replied, giving the last name I'd gotten from one of the other men this morning.

"I'll have him dealt with immediately." There was no hesitation in his offer to have one of his men eliminated.

"No," I barked, realizing I'd given him the wrong impression. "He's not bothering her as in talking to her." I ran my hand over my face and up through my hair in an attempt to clear my brain so that I could explain myself better. "His face is familiar. Obviously, if he's been your guard for a few years, she shouldn't recognize him, since they move in totally different circles. So, until she can figure out where she knows him from or definitively prove she doesn't know him at all, it will stick in her brain and keep her from relaxing."

Pop got up and moved to the filing cabinet behind his desk. Removing the keys in his pocket, he unlocked the top drawer and pulled it halfway open before pulling a thin folder out. "Here is the background check I had run on him." He held out the folder for me to take it. "Let her begin here, and if she doesn't get the answer she is looking for, then give her a laptop." I took the folder from him as he added, "But if she finds something, I want her to tell me about it herself."

"She'll tell both of us," I warned him, trying to make it clear I wasn't going to leave Stephanie alone with him for any reason right now.

"Of course, of course," he agreed, brushing off my concern. "But I will need to understand how she found something my own system failed to bring to me initially, and it's usually quicker to get it straight from the source than secondhand.

Now it was my turn to act like I fully understood what he meant.

"Of course, as long as we're on the subject of your Stephanie, you two seem very close. Certainly closer than any co-worker like you initially told me."

This was why I hadn't wanted to talk to him about her. My father was not only good at working out the business end of a deal, but he was damn brilliant at reading people. I could try to lie to him and repeat the co-worker bullshit I'd already shoved in his direction. But he would see right through it, and it's possible I might piss him off enough he'd go straight to Stephanie to get the story, and that was something I wanted to avoid at all cost.

There was no choice; I had to tell him something. "It's complicated."

"Love is always complicated, or it wouldn't seem so worthwhile," Pop replied, as though my response hadn't shocked him in the least.

I decided to throw out the first of many reasons why Stephanie and I had to remain friends. "She and my boss used to have a non-defined relationship."

"Does she wish to be with him now?" My father seemed very interested in this reply.

"No." After answering, I recalled not only what she had told me about their status, but how Ranger had treated her lately. He was as concerned as ever, but he wasn't as likely to seek her out alone. And for her part, she hadn't been calling him directly when she needed help; she'd been going straight to the main line at RangeMan. Hell, that was part of how I'd gotten mixed up with her in the first place. If she'd called Ranger when her car had stopped, I wouldn't have been around to know about Nick.

"So, that is not a problem," Pop dismissed, bringing me back to the present again. "Are you concerned she will turn on you because of who I am?"

The old man was direct, I had to admire that. "I used to be." He deserved my honesty about this topic more than any other. "I stayed away from her for a couple of years because I thought the answer was yes. But when I brought her here, I had to tell her, and so far, it doesn't seem to matter to her at all."

"Do you think it's the money?" There was a difference between direct and insulting, and that question had crossed it.

"Absolutely not," I raised my voice to respond. "If anything, it makes it harder for her to accept me. She works hard, and her independence is very important to her. She already feels indebted to me – to all of us, really – for the clothes and the care she's gotten. She doesn't want the money. That's never been who she was."

"And you admire that about her, don't you?"

"So much," I replied, letting my head fall to the back of the couch. I would have loved to have argued with Pop because that seemed to be what we did, but about this, I had a feeling he was seeing more than I was.

"Then why are you hesitating to make her yours?"

"Because…" I couldn't get any further than that. Why was I hesitating? The more I got to know about her, the more I wanted to know. She was pulling me in one conversation at the time. I already knew I admired the hell out of her skills as an investigator. Her honor and loyalty rivaled the guys I'd worked with for years and survived hell with. And she seemed content to hold my secret for me, giving me no indication that where I came from changed who she saw me as when we were together. Plus, she was beautiful, funny, compassionate, and smart. She was everything I wanted.

"Who is this man that hurt her?"

"Her ex-boyfriend," I replied, feeling a new wave of hatred for the guy, just thinking about him. "He tried to kill her and threatened that if she told anyone, he would take out RangeMan. She took his abuse to protect us."

A whistle came from my father's side of the couch. I could have spent hours detailing all the reasons why Stephanie was an amazing woman, but I'd just dropped the biggest thing I could right in his lap. She was willing to suffer to protect those she cared about. Nothing would put her in higher esteem than that. "Give me his name, and I'll have him dealt with before the sun goes down."

Funny, there was a time when I would have been horrified by his suggestion he'd have someone killed for me. He was trying to be generous in giving me something that needed to be done so that I didn't have to do it myself. "No," I stated bluntly, turning him down before figuring I owed him more than that. "You can't have him taken out because I want to be the one to watch the life drain from that fucker."

"Language," my father corrected, only pretending to be offended. My family tolerated a lot, but no one was allowed to take the Lord's name in vain, and excessive use of profanity was considered a weakness to Pop, so he tried to keep Vincent and me in line. "I'll back off, but when you decide to deal with this situation, anything you might need will be at your disposal."

"Thanks, Pop," I replied, as though we were talking about me borrowing the family car instead of him giving me a few professional assassins, "but I've got this. It's important that I take care of it."

"What you're saying is that it's important that you take care of _her,_" he summed up so perfectly, I didn't have a way to disagree.

Before I could come up with something else to say, three knocks sounded on the door, followed by two much shorter ones. I knew that was the signal that his next appointment was here. Pop pointed to the computer docked next to his desk. "Take that one, and let her use it in whatever way you're comfortable."

"Thanks, Pop," I replied again, knowing our time together was at an end.

Just as I put my hand on the door, he called out, "For what it's worth, I like her for you."

I shrugged, as though his opinion didn't matter, but in truth, I found myself agreeing with him. Now all I had to do was figure out how to see if she would agree with us.

When I opened the door to walk out, I did a quick review of the foyer, double checking for any threats. I should have known it wasn't necessary, but old habits die hard, and never stepping into an unknown room was a habit that had kept me alive, so I wasn't about to apologize for it.

I was totally unprepared for what I saw. Sitting in the receiving area was Alexander Ramos, head of the Ramos arms dealing family. He was on a love seat next to Stephanie, holding her hand between his, as though they were old family friends.

Seeing that I hadn't walked out yet, my father got up and walked over. "How does she know Alexander?"

"They met when she was working a case a couple of years ago," I reported, basically giving him all the details I knew, other than it was when Ranger had needed Stephanie's help to clear his name and she'd jumped in, despite the danger it put her in, too.

When Ramos saw us staring at them, he grinned at my father and kissed Stephanie's knuckles before standing and giving a small bow to excuse himself for a meeting. If my father's hand hadn't been on my shoulder, I probably would have attacked the old man just for daring to put his lips anywhere on Stephanie's body. The fact that he'd done so with full respect for her was beside the point. It was that he'd done something even I hadn't attempted that was sticking in my craw at the moment.

"Anthony, my good boy," Alexander said as he approached us. "I had no idea you had such excellent taste in women to have attracted the interest of our good Miss Plum. If I were thirty years younger, I might try to give you a run for your money, but she seems to be content with just your attention at the moment because I couldn't even turn her eye." All his words were spoken lightly and loud enough for everyone to hear. As we passed by one another in the doorway, he dropped his voice considerably to say, "Those marks on her face…if they came from you, I'll ruin years of friendship with your father to teach you a lesson."

"I'd never lay a hand on Stephanie," I assured him, not bothering to acknowledge the threat to my life if I had hurt her. "I brought her here to get treatment from my brother and recuperate in the safety my father's house could provide."

He took a minute to fully mull over what I'd said and weighed it against what he saw on my face. Apparently, he believed me, because he clapped my shoulder with one of his old hands and added, "I'll be glad to send out a team if you just give me a name."

"No, sir," I corrected him just as I had my father. "Thank you for the offer, but this one is mine and mine alone."

"Good," he replied, lifting his hand and passing through fully into my father's office, basically dismissing me by turning his back in my direction.

"Any chance I'll be invited to a wedding sometime soon?" Alexander asked my father as I pulled the door shut.

My father crossing himself in the hope it would happen was the last I saw of him before shutting myself out of the room.

I walked over to Stephanie, who was getting up slowly. We'd spent the morning walking the grounds, and she'd seemed so happy, I had allowed her to talk me into going all the way around. Now that she'd eaten and had had a moment to relax, the exhaustion of overexerting herself was beginning to show. I should have refused to let her do that last loop... It had added at least a half mile to our walk.

When I slipped a hand around her elbow to hold her steady, I got a full grin in return. I lifted the laptop and said, "Why don't we head upstairs to our suite and stretch out for a while so that you can check out how my father's search programs compare to the ones at RangeMan and rest some at the same time?"

She surprised me by agreeing, which only bore further evidence to how exhausted she had to be. With my hand already at her arm, she leaned into me as we walked to the elevator, and when the doors shut, she rested her head on my shoulder. I wasn't exactly a ladies man, but I had some moves that had worked for me in the past. But I'd never found myself in the position of wishing I had extra arms so that I could continue to support her like I was while having an arm to put around her so that she could melt into me like she did last night and still have one free to hit the button in the elevator and maybe another to keep near my sidearm.

Once we settled in the suite, Stephanie kicked off her sneakers and slowly climbed into bed, using a pile of pillows to angle her into a semi-seated position to rest the laptop on her legs and work.

"My father said you could begin with the background check he had run on Constantine to see if it gave you any clues," I told her, holding out the thin folder he'd given me in his office. "He also said that if you find something, he wants you to tell him about it yourself so that you can explain how you went about discovering something his team missed."

She agreed, as though I'd told her she'd have to have a sit down with a baker at the Tasty Pastry, not an infamous mob boss. Either she had the world's best skills in denial, or she really wasn't bothered by who I was related to.

Within minutes, her thumbnail was between her teeth, and I could see she was totally lost in her search. I knew this could take a while, and there was really nothing I could do, so I excused myself to go into the other bedroom, where a small but effective elliptical machine and a treadmill was stored so that I could get a workout of sorts in. I wouldn't trade a second of my time with Stephanie, but spending so much time sitting around indoors was beginning to take a toll on me, and I needed to burn off some of the excess energy that was building up.

An hour later, my mind had finally cleared, and I was in that place where my mind was blank and my body was beginning to burn. When I got like this, I could easily block out the world, only focusing on the next set of repetitions, but somehow, Stephanie's voice cut through when she called out, "I've got it!"

Instantly, I was off the machine and grabbed a towel to wipe my face as I moved into the room where I'd left her to work. "What do you have?"

"Constantine has been with your father for two years, but he's only been heavily involved for the last year. The first year, he had another job at the same time," she reported, something I knew my father would never have agreed to. When you worked with him, you were solely devoted to him, or you didn't continue.

"I don't understand..." That was the best I could come up with to ask her to give me more information.

"Ranger had a case with ATF a year or so ago and asked me to come down and see Alexander for some information, so I drove down to Deal and paid him a visit at a bar he likes to sneak into when he thinks nobody is watching him. This guy was the bartender. I remember him because he flirted with me obnoxiously, and it was Alexander that had to threaten him to make him stop.

Maybe this wasn't so bad, then. Moonlighting as a bartender wasn't exactly a capital offense, so it didn't mean that one of my Uncles was about to get called into active duty.

Unfortunately, she wasn't done talking. "Something about his behavior bothered me, so when I got back to RangeMan to report in, I spent some time trying to track him down to see if he really was a bartender with no social skills, or if he was somebody important. I had to call the bar to get a name, and the owner told me that the guy that had been there wasn't an employee; he was just a guy that had slipped him a thousand bucks to be allowed to pretend to work there for an hour. I couldn't trace him without a name, so it was a bit of a dead end."

"Do you think he worked for the Ramos family?" It wouldn't be a great explanation, but it might save his life since my father held Alexander in a sort of esteemed position.

She shot down that possibility. "No, I think he was flirting with me as an excuse to stay close to the two of us, and he was really there to get the scoop on Alexander."

"And now he's in a position to get the scoop on my father," I muttered, connecting the dots. "Is there anything else you can get on him?"

"Yes," she answered, clicking through a few windows of various programs. "I don't think the name he's given your family is his real name. I think it's an assumed identity, because the background is bare bones and perfect. Even my saintly sister has more inconsistencies in her background than this guy. Plus, he doesn't spend any money anywhere. There's a checking account, where I'm assuming his paycheck is automatically deposited each month, but no withdrawals ever. He's not paid a single penny for anything."

"The men that work for my father live in the compound, rent free, and their meals are provided if they elect to eat in the bunkhouse kitchen," I told her, unintentionally pulling her further into the mystery of my family business.

"Sure, but he's never even bought a pack of gum," she countered. "Doesn't that seem strange?"

She was right, of course. "You're brilliant. You know that, right?"

As expected, she waved off my praise. Her response was the exact same one I would have given in her position, reminding me we were more alike than I'd ever thought possible.

"I don't know why he's here," she spoke once more. "But I highly doubt it's really to protect your father."

"Do you think he's a fed?" I had to ask. Alerting my father that he had a mole would mean he'd have a new opening in his staff immediately. But killing a federal officer bore a much higher penalty and the possibility of being discovered. If a prosecutor of some sort had planted him here, how we proceeded might change.

"There's not really a search program for that," she reminded me. "But my gut says no, just because the feds have experience in setting up aliases, and I would think they would have made this one a little more realistic. I guess it's possible, but somehow, I doubt it. Does your dad have any enemies that might want to plant someone in his organization to pass his plans along?"

"My father's list of enemies spans two continents and is longer than my…" I had to stop myself before I said something vulgar out of habit. "I mean, he's got a lot of people that might want to know what his next move would be."

"What were you going to say?" she questioned, suddenly forgetting about her search. "Longer than what?"

"My arm?" I offered, wishing it hadn't sounded so much like a question.

Stephanie burst out laughing at my weak attempt to cover the truth. "Something tells me you were going to use an expression Lester likes by comparing it to a part of your anatomy."

I was totally busted and had no way to talk her out of the idea.

"You're blushing," she practically squealed, obviously thrilled to see the slight hint of color on my face. When her hand touched my cheek, I lost the irritation at my body for betraying me in front of her. If a little embarrassment on my part would get her to voluntarily touch me, then I no longer cared about it.

Of course, that wasn't to say I was just going to let her laugh at my expense. I was still a man, which meant I had some kind of genetic predisposition to never let someone get the upper hand on me. If she was going to push me into a corner, then I'd give her exactly what she'd asked for. "Actually, I was going to say the list of enemies was longer than my dick, but I pulled back to not offend you. But if you're going to push, then I'll give you exactly what you want."

When her cheeks went to fire engine red, I smirked, briefly celebrating my victory. But when she scooted closer to me and said, "I'm Italian, too, Anthony. If you think talking about your manhood is going to keep me from pushing for details, then you don't know me very well at all."

That settled it. I was absolutely screwed here. I'd thought she was irresistible when she seemed embarrassed, but when she was pushing through that discomfort and challenging me, it was all I could do to keep from pulling her the rest of the way to me. Instead, I responded eloquently by blinking at her, my mind flooded with images of us pressed together and my mouth unable to say anything.

I assume she decided to have a little mercy on me, because she sat back slightly and grinned. "I guess your lack of a retort means it's time to go see your dad to tell him what we found out about Constantine to see what he wants to do."

It took four breaths before my mind could completely reboot and scream at me to not let her anywhere near my father with that information. It would set him off, and the gentle, hospitable man she'd been exposed to so far would exit, to be replaced with a ruthless leader who would stop at nothing to eliminate the threat that had attempted to betray him. No matter what this guy's intentions were, the fact that he'd entered our family compound under false pretenses would be enough to have him eliminated.

"Why don't you let me take this to him and see if there's something else he wants you to dig around for," I offered, wishing she'd let it go, but knowing she wouldn't go for it.

"Nice try," she replied, moving to stand up. "It makes more sense for me to be there in person if you think he's going to ask for more information so I'll be able to look for whatever specific thing he's after." Her words were nearly identical to why Pop had requested her to bring this back to him herself, but I still felt the need to argue the point.

"He may not want information," I warned her. "He might just want to act on what you've given him."

"It would surprise me if he didn't," she answered, not grasping what I was trying to warn her about.

I hated to be so direct with her, and I really hated what I was about to do, but she was looking at this through rose-colored glasses, and in my family, that kind of romanticism could get you killed. "Look, Stephanie, there's a better-than-likely chance you're going to tell Pop this, and he's going to immediately order Constantine to be tortured to give up who he's really working for and then killed once he's of no use to us. Do you really want to be around to see that? Do you want to be confronted with the reality that your information is probably going to cause a man to lose his life? I'm trying to protect you here, but you keep blocking me. My family deals in absolutes. We don't hope for the best. We operate more on the worst-case scenarios and cover everything else up. Do you really want to be around what's going to happen next?" There was a part of me that hated the words as they came out of my mouth. I hated that I was basically threatening Stephanie with the reality of my family, but I didn't know how else to get through to her.

"Do you really think that's what's going to happen?" she asked, her voice losing all of its previous courage.

"Yes," I assured her, knowing it was true.

"I'd rather not be around for the torture and…well, what happens after that, but if he betrayed your father, I don't think it's right for him to walk away, either," she confessed, obviously not comfortable with causing a death, but exhibiting the same kind of conflicting feeling I had about being okay with someone losing their life if it protected someone I loved. "He would let me leave before Constantine was brought in, wouldn't he?"

Oh hell, if my parents ever heard this conversation, they'd have a priest here within an hour to marry us. She got it…the idea that you protect your family above all else. And that betrayal might not be against the law as far as the constitution was concerned, but it was certainly the highest crime you could commit in the rules of the Pertucci organization. She wasn't comfortable, but she didn't disagree with the principle, either.

"He'd never allow Constantine anywhere near you," I told her, answering her question first before asking one of my own. "You're going to hate me when this is all over, aren't you?" Why did it sound like I was begging for something? "Your conscience is going to kick in, and you're going to resent me forcing this knowledge on you."

"No." Her voice was so much more steady than mine. "I'm going to respect you so much more for understanding the worlds you have to walk between, and I'm going to keep trying to learn more about you, because every time you share something new, I want to know more."

It was like she was quoting my own mind back to me. How was it possible she understood how I felt about her? While I was trying to figure out how to respond, she took a few slow steps toward me and hugged me, resting her head on my chest. My arms wrapped around her, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. And based on how good it felt to have her here, it was. Suddenly, trying to figure out how this was possible wasn't as important as trying to figure out how to get more of it.


	9. Things I Like

_I did nothing here. All the credit for the world depicted below goes to JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for the time you have put into this story as the beta. Your skills astound me, and your enthusiasm inspires me to keep writing. _

**Chapter 9 – Things I Like**

"What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" my father asked innocently.

"Stephanie found some things that I think you should hear about Constantine," I explained, watching him turn from a laid-back paternal figure to a hard and aggressive mobster in the blink of an eye.

"Tell me everything you know, and leave out no detail," he instructed, turning his intense stare in her direction.

Fortunately, Stephanie had plenty of experience working around aggressive men, because she didn't seem to be the least bit put off by the switch in Pop's personality. It took her forty-five minutes to walk him through the reports and explain her conclusions. My father asked a few questions, but for the most part, he quietly listened, interested in every word she said.

After she was done, he picked up his phone and spoke without hesitation. "Get Guido here within the hour.

"You have done a great service to our family," he addressed Stephanie after hanging up the phone. "I will follow up on the information you have given me and see it to its rightful conclusion." In other words, _I'm going to kill __Constantine so__ you don't have to worry about this anymore._

"Is there anything else I can work on for you?" she asked, always wanting to be helpful.

"No," he answered, turning her down gently considering the news she'd just given him. "You have already done much more than I can repay. Please be sure that my son takes care of you so that you can get the rest you need to heal while you are here."

He was trying to change the subject, which would have worked on anyone else, but Stephanie could be a bit like a dog with a bone when she was on the trail of something. "If you need me to run down anything after you lean on Constantine, just let me know. I might be able to pick up on something that could be helpful for you to get the full picture of why he's here."

Pop tilted his head, as though he were confused by her answer. It had probably been a long time since anyone other than me pushed him on anything. Finally, the expression of confusion shifted into amusement, and he told her, "You remind me so much of Anthony. I can see why you seem to enjoy his company." Standing to indicate our meeting was officially over, he added, "I will keep your offer in mind, and if there are details that are missing from Constantine's responses, I may just call upon you to try to fill them in."

With a quick kiss to Stephanie's cheek, he told us both goodbye, and we found ourselves on the other side of his office door. We'd only walked ten feet away when my Uncle Guido came barreling down the hall, answering my father's page.

"Who's that?" Stephanie asked as we moved to give him wide berth to pass.

"That's my father's youngest brother, Guido," I answered, wishing she would accept that response but knowing her well enough to brace myself for what she would say next.

"Your father called him when I finished telling him about Constantine," she accurately remembered. "Why was he called in?"

"Guido has a skill set that's useful in situations like this one," I answered, attempting an evasive response.

"If we're going to be friends, you're going to have to learn to answer questions more fully than that," she pointed out dryly. "What's his useful skill set?"

I ran my hand over my face and let out a long breath. "He's good at using pain to get information out of people. Most likely, Pop was going to have him grab Constantine and see what he could get from him about his purpose here."

"He's not going to kill him?" she followed up as we stepped into the elevator.

There was no way I could guarantee that, but I felt the need to give her something. "Pop has plenty of other guys that specialize in exterminations, but I can't tell you that Uncle Guido has never gotten carried away and over exceeded his job description."

"Uncle Guido," she whispered softly. I decided to wait and see if there was a question coming my direction, and just as stepped out onto the third floor, she said, "Are you close to him? I mean, did you have big family reunions?"

I couldn't stop the laugh from bubbling out, and it forced me to acknowledge how strange the sound was because I rarely felt happy enough to truly laugh. "We don't have family a reunion per se because that implies the family is spread out and needs an occasion to get together. We were together for most of the major holidays, like Easter, Christmas, and Thanksgiving, and every time there's a wedding, funeral, or christening, we're all there for that too, so we see each other at a group event a half dozen or more times a year."

She seemed lost in her thoughts, and I could imagine what she had to be thinking, so I guessed, "Why? Are you having trouble picturing the ruthless killers being part of a real family – kissing babies and crying at weddings?"

Stephanie looked at me, as though trying to gauge what I was really asking, before putting me in my place. "Anthony Pertucci, I can't believe you're asking me that. What have I done to make you think I believe that having killed someone automatically means you're incapable of having emotions? In case you've conveniently forgotten, I've taken a couple of lives too, and it certainly doesn't keep me from falling apart at a funeral or wanting to be a part of a family. I get that you've had a lot of people judge you for who you're related to, but you need to get it through your thick skull that I'm not one of those people."

Then she made the most adorable growling sound and spun away from me, intentionally getting away from the support I'd been offering her in order to slowly storm off to the bedroom, loudly slamming the door behind her.

I stood there in the main room of my suite and wondered exactly what the right move in this situation might be. Did I open the door to what had always been my bedroom and apologize for assuming to know what she was thinking? Did I even owe her an apology? I mean, she was the one who yelled at me; all I'd done was ask a question. Even with my limited social skills, I knew I was at fault here. Sitting down hard on the sofa in the room, I tried to figure out how one went about apologizing for a gut reaction. _I'm sorry my past experience has taught me not to trust __people; I'll__ try to remember you're the exception to the rule _seemed kind of forced.

Screw it. I was in way over my head, so I grabbed the call phone from my hip and hit one of the few speed dials I had programmed in.

"Yo," Les answered on the second ring.

"I need some help," I replied, knowing he'd already checked the caller ID and seen it was me.

"Name it," he replied, reminding me why despite the fact he talked more than most guys I knew, he was probably the guy at the office I liked the most. He could bullshit with the best of them, but when the rubber met the road, he was there – guns strapped on and at the ready.

"It's kind of…personal." Shit... It sounded like I had some kind of sex issue that was covered under doctor-patient privilege.

"Personal, as in not RangeMan related, or as in if I laugh, you'll find a way to shoot me the next time we're in the field together," he wondered aloud, giving me two viable options.

"Both," I answered honestly, letting myself smile instead of fighting the reaction since there was no one in the room to see it.

"Hang on," he spoke once more before I heard a banging sound in the background. "All right, the door's closed," he assured me. "Whatcha need?"

"It's Stephanie," I began, hoping he'd have something to say to help me since he seemed to know her better than anyone else outside of Ranger.

"She okay?" His voice was immediately devoid of the joking tone it had held, and he was a hundred percent in business mode.

"She's fine," I promised. "But she's…well, she's pissed at me."

There was a short four seconds of silence before Lester burst out laughing. "You want advice on how to get back on her good side." Fucker got it right on the first try, and he had the balls to act like it was funny.

"I made an assumption about how she'd react to something, and I was way off, so she put me in my place and then stormed off, slamming the door behind her." I figured he was already laughing, so my pride didn't have much more to lose.

He chuckled again before attempting to pull himself together. "All right, man, she's not as complicated as we make her out to be. She hates being lied to, she hates it when people make decisions for her, and she hates it when people think the worst of her without giving her a chance to prove herself one way or the other. I'm guessing if she's that kind of pissed, you did one of those things."

"That much I know," I said, feeling the need to defend myself. I was quiet, but I wasn't an idiot. "What do I do to fix it?"

"Tell her you're sorry," he answered quickly. "Didn't your mama teach you to apologize when you were wrong?"

"That's it?" I wondered how anything with a woman could be that simple.

"Steph ain't like other women," he wisely pointed out. "I've got the bruises to prove it. If all she did was storm off and didn't bother hitting you too, then you've managed to get on her good side somehow, which is more than I've figured out when she's pissed."

I took a minute to think over what he'd said and realized I liked the idea of her response to me being tamer than hers to Santos.

"Was there something else you needed, or were you hoping I'd sit here listening to you breathe?" he broke into my zone to ask.

Just before I hung up, I realized there was something else he could do. "Stephanie's former flame, Nick?"

"The one that hurt her?" Lester clarified the direction this conversation was taking.

"That's the one," I agreed. "Nobody can touch him...yet, but it'd be great if Hector could tag his car so we'll have a better idea of where he's hiding when the time comes."

"Can I be in on it?" he asked, sounding like a kid that's asking for candy.

"That's up to Stephanie," I told him, hoping she'd agree to just let me do it for her.

"You learn real fast, man," Les said with a laugh and then cut off the joking sound to add, "But if the chance comes up and she gives the go ahead, you'd better remember I'm on speed dial. Somebody hurt that woman, and around here, that's not something we overlook."

"Hooah." I gave him the ingrained Army response that covered all kinds of situations and then hung up.

Sitting on the couch, I tried to piece together an apology in my head that might help Stephanie to understand why I'd assumed the worst and opened my big fat mouth without thinking. Once I realized everything I could come up with sounded lame, I stood up and walked to the closed door separating us. To sound like an idiot was bad enough, but the thought of having practiced my idiotic response was too much, so I decided to just wing it and blame my words on the fact that I'm not good at shooting from the hip.

I knocked three times, wondering if I'd ever knocked on this door before. I couldn't remember a time when I'd been shut out of my own bedroom.

It took a minute, but my patience was rewarded when Stephanie opened the door with a nose slightly redder than it had been and eyes twice as blue. Shit, she'd been crying, and I was the cause of it. I was no better than Nick had been. Sure, I hadn't laid a hand on her, but if she was upset enough to cry, I'd obviously hurt her in some way.

My former tongue-tied condition reversed itself, and I found words tumbling out of my mouth after thinking I'd caused her pain. "Stephanie, I'm so sorry. I was an ass because…apparently, I'm a jerk at heart. I've heard some version of all the questions I threw out there before and hate trying to defend my family. I mean, I get that we're all monsters of varying degrees, but we're…well, it's the only family I know, and even though I hate some of what we do, I still love the people I'm related to. Truthfully, I complain about the command performances when we all get together, but I've never missed a single one when I'm in the country. There was no reason for me to jump to the conclusion that you'd feel the way the other assholes I've met have felt, and I'm…well, I'm sorry."

She held up her hand, and I instantly stopped rambling. "You don't apologize much, do you?"

I took a moment to consider her question in order to give her an honest answer. "No. Other than when my parents have made me, I can't think of a time when I've tried to say I was sorry."

At that, she offered a slight smile and nodded her head. "Then, you're forgiven. But for the record, I hate it when people assume to know how I'll react. So, don't do that again."

"Noted," I replied, careful not to promise I wouldn't repeat the same mistake in the future. I certainly wouldn't want to, but according to my mother, the men in my family were extremely hardheaded when it came to protecting women, so there was a genetic predisposition to doing the wrong thing in the name of keeping someone safe.

My response seemed to satisfy her as she stepped back and swung the door open. I watched as she walked over to the bed and climbed in to lie back against the mountain of pillows she'd constructed. "This is an amazing bed," she admitted in a breathy voice that made me wonder if she'd intended me to hear it.

"I've always liked it," I confessed, causing her head to snap up in my direction. I was no genius, but that startled look on her face was confirmation that I'd just responded to what she'd thought was an internal comment.

Patting the bed beside her, she covered her alarm and asked, "What else have you always liked?"

That was a hard question. It's not like I sat around making lists of my preferences. I was a pretty simple person, and trying to come up with an answer to this question only proved that point. Seeing that she was still waiting and knowing that she wasn't likely to let the question go, I tried to give her an answer. "I like a good challenge." My answer was enough to cause her to relax, but she was still looking at me, so I knew it wasn't enough. "I like my mom's baked chicken, which she rarely makes because she has a kitchen staff that takes care of all the meals."

"What is it about her version that's special?" Stephanie wondered, always picking up on the little details.

Hell, I wasn't a cook. I shrugged, wishing she'd let it go, but when she raised a single eyebrow in my direction, copying a face I'd seen Ranger make when he expected more information, I knew I had to keep talking. "She uses at least a stick or two of real butter and stuffs it with herbs that most people would only put in spaghetti sauce. Then she surrounds it with potatoes and those little onions and presses out at least half a bulb of garlic to add to it. It cooks for a long time, so by the time it's done, the whole first floor smells amazing."

The grin on her face made me think I'd given her an answer she wasn't expecting. "You guys eat baked chicken all the time, so I thought you were going to say it was healthy and plain so you liked the fact it was one meal that wasn't a traditional Italian grease pit."

That comment made me laugh, but she scowled instead. I couldn't figure out how my laughter would possibly offend her. Fortunately, before I opened my mouth and began my second apology for the day, she spoke up.

"Damn, I just did the exact same thing I got so mad at you for, didn't I?"

_What?_

Before I could lay my question out there, she jumped back in. "You made a comment that hurt my feelings because you quoted the usual response people gave you in that situation and projected it on me. Then I turned around and projected what I'd gotten from most of the guys at RangeMan onto you. I mean, baked chicken versus judgmental bitch isn't exactly the same thing, but the underlying premise is identical."

Had she just let me off the hook? I wanted to ask, because this conversation was getting more confusing by the minute.

Then she answered my unasked question. "I'm sorry, Anthony. Of all people, I should know better than to just lump people in together."

"Wow, you're really good at apologizing," I blurted out, impressed with the fact that she hadn't rambled or blanched at admitting to doing something wrong.

"I should be," she conceded. "Unlike you, I've had plenty of experience."

"Honestly, you have nothing to apologize for," I told her, giving her my honest opinion. "When I'm at RangeMan, I eat the same as all the other guys. But when I'm at home, I like my mom's cooking best."

"Yeah, I can understand that," she replied, sounding a bit like she was wishing for some of her own mother's cooking. I blamed the shadow on her face for why my mouth suddenly opened without needing to.

"You know what else I like?" I prompted, happy when her head jerked up so she could look at me. I wasn't sure which was the more dominant emotion on her face – the shock or the curiosity – but I was pleased to see the sadness completely gone. "I like the Little Debbie snack cakes that are rolled up and covered in icing. I don't even know what they're really called, because when I was growing up, my Nonna always gave them to Vincent and me, so we just called them Nonna cakes."

"You like Swiss Cake Rolls?" she clarified, jogging my memory about the correct name for the undoubtedly heart attack-inducing snack cake.

"Yep, and I like pink jelly beans, but I hate all the other colors," I threw out there, giving away information I'd never told another person.

"A Merry Man with a sweet tooth," she replied. "I had no idea that was possible."

I was about to pick on her for once again assuming to know about me based on what she thought the other guys were like, when I reran what she'd first said. "Hold on..." I held up my hand to keep her from talking again and distracting me. "What did you call us?"

Her first response was to blush like she'd just gotten caught swearing in church. Then, she softly repeated her words. "I called you guys Merry Men."

"Where in the hell did that come from?" I wondered, trying to remember if she'd seen the guys dressed up sometime when I wasn't around.

"It slipped out one day when I was comparing Ranger's work to what Robin Hood does, and then I realized if he was Robin Hood, then that would make the rest of you the Merry Men, so I use it as my general reference for you guys whenever I think about you, but I haven't actually shared it out loud," she confessed.

"So you've never seen any of the guys in tights?" I asked, just to be clear.

She giggled at my question but eventually confessed that no one had ever been that drunk at RangeMan. "What else do you like?" she pushed, sounding like a kid pressing for another present on Christmas.

Normally, this kind of self-disclosure made me feel like I was about to have a panic attack. There was a reason I changed up what I ate and did around the guys. It was to keep them from ever pinning any preferences on me and putting me in a situation like this one. But with Stephanie asking, I found that I wasn't as put off by it. I found myself searching my brain for something else to offer up about myself, just to keep her smiling. I never thought I see the day when I'd break my code of how to behave for a woman, but this was definitely that day.

"I like thunderstorms..." The memory of this one was something I hadn't thought of in years.

"Not me," she disagreed with a slight shiver. "Doesn't the noise bother you?"

"When I was really little, it did, and my mom would let me sneak into their room and slip into bed with them. So after a few storms one fall, I started thinking of them as something that meant I got a special privilege for instead of something to be afraid of. Mom would talk to me or scratch my back while we counted the seconds between the lightening and the claps of thunder, and I'd always go to sleep during the worst of the storm because she made it so relaxing."

"I can see why you'd like that," Stephanie agreed, nodding. "I remember trying to climb into bed with my parents once during a storm, but they slept on a full-size mattress then, and there wasn't enough room, so my mother fussed at me for waking them up and sent me back to bed. From then on, I never tried to join them, and I'd hide either in my closet or in the corner with a blanket on top of me. I don't remember why it scared me so much, but I do remember hating the noise and feeling like every time the thunder rolled, I had to keep myself from screaming."

We sat side by side, quietly lost in our remembrances from our childhood until she broke the silence. "Will you tell me something else you like?" I could see that the brief stroll down memory lane had put her back in a funk, so I wracked my brain trying to come up with something happy.

Frustrated that nothing good was coming to me, I said the first thing that popped in my mind. "I like you."

Her eyes got much bigger, and she swallowed before opening her mouth, only to shut it once more. Finally, she got out what must have been rolling around in her head. "Why?"

"You make it easy." I decided this was a time for complete honestly. We only had a couple more days of isolation at my parent's house, and then we'd head back to Trenton. "I respect your skills, the way your mind works a puzzle until you solve it. I like how you bring out the best in everyone around you and refuse to focus on the worst. I think you're fun and compassionate, willing to do anything for anybody in need, and you are the first woman outside of my family that doesn't seem slightly afraid of me. Plus…" I stopped there, wishing I'd ended with my last sentence and not attempted to keep going.

After the silence stretched out, Stephanie prompted me, "Plus what?"

Only years of controlling my expression kept me from grimacing at her question. "Plus, you're the first person that I've ever wanted to talk to."

"Why do you want to talk to me?" she wondered.

"It feels natural." I had no real answer to her question. "I don't have to come up with things to say because, despite me usually being the quietest person in the room, around you, my mouth opens up and I don't mind talking." Realizing I was beginning to sound like a girl, I added, "Well, I don't mind talking much."

"You were doing so well, but you just had to add that last bit there, didn't you?" she teased. "For the record, I like you, too. In fact, at this moment, I'd say you were at the top of my 'things I like' list."

Then, she stopped talking. She dropped a comment like that, implying I'm at the top of a list, and then doesn't give me any other details to know if that's a big deal. If the next item on the list is a Pino's meatball sub, then I think this time together might have significant meaning for her, too. If the next item on her list was more along the lines of finding a penny in a parking lot, then I wasn't sure it's such a compliment.

I would never call Santos for advice again. He'd said Stephanie wasn't as complicated as most women, but she threw out vague comments like that, and I knew I wouldn't have a moment's peace until I figured this out. Too bad there wasn't a search engine on Pop's laptop to sort through what she'd really meant.


	10. Unexpected Admiration

_JE gets the credit for the characters below. I'm just taking from her for my own amusement._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for all the time you've put into organizing my thoughts, correcting my mistakes and suggesting better ways of getting my point across. Your work as the beta on this story has been invaluable._

**Chapter 10 – Unexpected Admiration**

"I believe I'm beginning to get older," my father said, seated behind his huge mahogany desk with his middle finger rubbing his right temple as a sure sign he was tense about something.

"You aren't one to complain about an AARP card," I countered, not sure why he was acting so out of character.

"The number on my license isn't what I'm referring to," he cryptically retorted, letting his hand fall away. "I'm getting soft."

An hour ago, I'd seen Uncle Guido in the kitchen with his knuckles bleeding and his face flushed. Obviously, he'd worked Constantine, over so I couldn't figure out why that equated to my father going soft.

It took a few minutes of silence before my father began to talk without me having to question him about his meaning. "Guido gave me his report, and I can't decide what my next steps should be regarding Constantine."

"If you have the information from him, and he has betrayed you, what's left to consider?" I can't say I always agreed with my father's termination policy, but in this particular case, I didn't really have a problem with this guy not seeing another day. Besides, he'd flirted with Stephanie enough to make her uncomfortable, which was a feat most skips on distractions couldn't accomplish, so for that alone, my conscience was clear about him not leaving the holding room while he was breathing.

"According to my brother, Constantine wasn't sent here by any government agencies. He was here strictly for personal reasons," Pop began.

"Most of the dead people in your profession bit it because of personal reasons," I pointed out.

"Yes, yes." He waved off my reminder about the high mortality rate for mob bosses. "Constantine claims that he's here because his mother told him he was the son of a major mafia leader, and based on his own research, he felt his father had to be either Alexander or me. He was here trying to gather evidence to prove I was the one who knocked up his mother."

There were several questions I could have asked at this point, but my mind was spinning from that revelation. I already knew from Stephanie's research that he was younger than me, so for this to be possible, it would mean accepting that my father had an affair. I would easily believe a good number of accusations against Pop, but for some reason, this one didn't sit well.

"Aren't you going to ask me if it's true?" Pop pushed.

I shrugged, knowing it wasn't really a response. "If it's true, I assume you'll tell me so. But unless I hear it from you directly, I won't believe it. That's not the kind of thing you taught me was acceptable, so I don't see you stepping out on Mom yourself."

It was hard to surprise my father, but my response had obviously done it. "You distance yourself from me at every turn and deny our relationship in your professional life, but still you defend me?"

"I want to make a name for myself and figure out my own way in the world outside of your business. That doesn't mean I'm not proud of my family," I argued, wondering if it were really true.

Based on how long he stared at me, Pop was probably trying to figure out the same thing. Finally, he let out a long breath and pushed a piece of paper across the desk in my direction, indicating I should pick it up. "Here is the name of his mother, where he was born, and his given name at birth. I am not that man's father – it's a physical impossibility because I've never strayed from your mother – but because he seems so convinced it's true, I need to know more about his mother."

"What difference does it make?" I wondered. Regardless of who gave birth to him, he'd still lied to my father about why he was here.

Pop's head fell back to rest again his chair, and he looked at the ceiling as though attempting to read the answer there. "Guido believed that the boy was sincere about why he was here. He just wanted to get to know his father in some way. He cannot stay here, obviously, but since he is going to need some time to recover from his time with my brother, I might be able to give him the answers he is risking his life to find."

This was why he thought he was going soft. He wasn't going to have Constantine killed if his story panned out to be true. "Are you going to have someone look into this?"

"As strange as this sounds, most of the people I employ would probably assume the kid's guess about his father was true based on my business dealings. I would prefer to have this investigated quietly and by someone who is trustworthy to keep the information to themselves," he said, looking at me as though willing me to pick up the unspoken words.

"You want me to have Stephanie look into this," I guessed. A simple nod was all I got in return. "Does Mom know?"

"Not yet, but she will in an hour," he replied, making me proud of him for the first time in a long time.

"Why are you telling her?" I wondered, not so sure I'd be impressed if it was just because he felt like I was pressuring him to bring her in.

"I try to protect your mother from the day-to-day stresses of my job. She knows what I do for a living, but the best way to keep her safe is to keep her ignorant of most of the details. However, from time to time, a detail crosses out of the strictly business end of things and moves more into the personal area. Anytime that happens, I tell her. Personal stuff always concerns her, and especially something like this – an accusation against my fidelity – I must bring to her directly in order to be sure she will trust me when I tell her it is absolutely untrue."

It was probably true that everybody struggles to picture their parents together romantically. But at this moment, all the small gestures of their devotion suddenly flooded through my head, and I realized I'd grown up with two people who were absolutely in love with each other. It was the real deal, and it was why I'd never pushed for a relationship with any of the women I hooked up with. With a model like my parents, settling for some cheap imitation never set well. I wanted what my parents had, and up until this last week, I didn't think it was possible. Of course, I was putting a lot of stock into whatever Stephanie and I had now transitioning back into the real world.

Holding up the paper in my hand, I assured him, "I'll give this to Stephanie. If it's possible to dig up any information on who this guy's real father is, she'd be the one to do it."

Three steps away from the office door, he called out, "I don't want to insult you or Stephanie, but I don't want this to get out. As soon as you have something, bring it to only me."

"Of course," I replied, wanting to resent him for the reminder to keep my mouth shut, but I couldn't find the anger that was usually so easy to grab hold of when it came to my father and his business. Instead, I took my leave and went straight up to my room, wanting to see Stephanie.

I needed to give her the information so she could begin doing whatever it was she did to get to the bottom of a mystery like this, but at the same time, I felt like something strange had just happened with my father, and I was off center. Although I had to no reason to feel this way, I was convinced that being around Stephanie would make my world right itself again.

"Hey, Anthony," she greeted me happily from her seat on the sofa, watching some kind of sappy chick flick on my television. It appeared to be from a DVD, which was puzzling since I knew there was no way a romantic movie had been in my collection before her visit. "I hope you don't mind that I made myself at home."

Her comment shook me out of my confused haze, and I shook my head that it was fine, electing not to confess that I had no idea where the movie had come from in order to defend my manhood.

"Maria came by with some more clothes and brought a box with some books and movies in it that she thought I might enjoy. I was going to tell her that I was fine with your collection, but she insisted on starting one for me, so I sat here to make her feel better and then got sucked in to the story." Her confession made me glad I'd kept my mouth shut.

"Feel free to keep watching it if you want," I said, more to assure her I was okay with her doing anything she wanted to here than because I cared about a movie.

Fortunately, she hit pause and pointed at my hand. "What's that?"

At least now, I didn't have to worry about how to bring up the subject. I sat down beside her and spelled out the entire conversation with my father, including the role he hoped she would play.

When I was done, I expected her to ask me if I believed that Pop was innocent; instead, she set the folder down and said, "This bothers you."

I couldn't decide if her intuition was a blessing or a curse. She seemed to ask the questions that would bring me right to the heart of whatever matter was at hand. But she was so direct, it was hard to wiggle out of the center of attention if it was something I didn't want to talk about. Then I thought back to Pop telling me he was going to tell my Mom everything, and I realized if I was sincere in saying I wanted what they had, then I needed to at least try to answer her question. "I admire how he's handling this."

"Is admiring your dad something new for you?" she pushed gently.

"Yeah, I guess it is. I mean, you'd think in light of what Constantine has accused him of, I'd be pissed as hell, but everything he's doing seems like the right thing to do, and I'm impressed." I was as surprised as she appeared to be at the last sentence. "I'm impressed and…jealous."

"Why are you jealous about a paternity accusation?" She was clearly confused about the last part.

"He's going to tell my mother everything, and she'll believe him because they have this trust thing. He's a lot of things, but he's not unfaithful, and I envy that solid faith he has that by being upfront and letting Mom in on everything, it will allow them to move through this together." As I finished speaking, I watched her face closely to see if she'd judge me for my rare display of sentimentality.

There was the slightest trace of a smile on her face, but not enough that I felt like she was laughing at me. Still, I felt my head dip down, not wanting to see it if she started to find humor in the situation.

"You want what your parents have."

It was a statement, not a question, but I still felt like I had to reply.

"Yes, I do."

"So do I," she agreed, causing my head to snap up so that I could once again look at her to judge the meaning behind her words. But on her face was just plain longing and honesty. There was no hidden agenda; she was being as sincere as I was.

"How do you get it?" I asked, wishing she could explain it to me.

"You don't get it," she replied patiently. "You make it."

Still confused, I couldn't even come up with a question. Luckily, she took pity on me and explained what she meant. "You make it by being open and honest with the person you want. That way, the trust between you grows and never gets broken. There are a lot of things you can fix in a relationship, but trust is something that's really hard to put back together. I think if you want it, then day by day, you give it, and after enough time has passed, the foundation between you is so solid, nothing can knock you over."

I found myself making a joke because I agreed with everything she said and didn't know how else to reply. "Were you watching Dr. Phil before this touchy-feely movie?"

"Nah, I've just had plenty of experience with people breaking my trust, so I know what I want more than anything," she answered, pulling the conversation back to a more serious turn. I was at a loss about what to say next, and then she completely floored me. "I trust you, and when you come to me with this kind of stuff—" she held out the folder I'd given her earlier "—then I know you trust me, too."

"I do," I assured her. Then my hand began to move on its own. I could see it lift and move toward her face, but I found that I was watching it as though it were someone else's and not a limb I could control. It wasn't until I felt the soft skin of her face under my fingertips that I came back to my senses. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she didn't make any moves to pull away from me, so I slowly moved my hand in order to stroke her cheek.

The pause on the movie gave way and caused us both to jump when the normal television programming came on loud enough to break the mood.

"I should get to work and see what I can dig up," she said, looking down as though she were shy.

"I really appreciate you doing this for Pop," I told her, glad to see her look back up when I spoke.

She smiled so sweetly at my words and then corrected me, "I'm not doing this for your father; I'm doing this for you."

My mind was forced blank at her words, and I wasn't able to even formulate the simple question of why. She stood up and walked into the bedroom, and I knew within a matter of seconds, she would be digging and lost in the mystery.

Feeling at a loss about what I should do next, I went into the spare room and decided to do what I always did when my mind was racing – I worked out. It took me an hour and a half before I found that place of mental silence and could just be. I was six miles into what I wanted to be a ten-mile run on the treadmill when Stephanie's voice caused me to stumble slightly.

She was grinning, as though Santos has just told a joke, when I turned around and looked at her.

"Yuck it up," I warned her, trying to sound stern. "But in a couple more days, you'll be clear for more activity, and I think getting you on this thing might be in order."

Her laughter died immediately and I almost regretted my snarky comment if it was going to wipe the joy off her face.

"There's a big difference between more activity and trying to kill myself on a treadmill," she countered. "If you expect me to get on that thing, it's going to cost you a lot more than a threat and a doctor's note."

Before replying, I wiped my face with the towel I'd thrown over the treadmill's handle and then moved closer to her. "Please let me know what the cost might be, and I'll analyze the benefit to see if it's worth it. Never let it be said I'm afraid to work off a debt."

That comment seemed to cause her to stumble a little, and I realized I loved this. I liked it when she came in confident and assertive, and I loved meeting her comment for comment in order to unnerve her and cause that lovely blush to creep up into her cheeks.

"I can't win," she mumbled under her breath.

Despite my efforts to ignore her comments when I was sure she hadn't intended me to hear them, I couldn't let that one go. "Didn't you learn that winning isn't important, it's how you play the game that matters?"

"I'm not really much of a player," she confessed, seeming to increase in confidence with every word. Of course, her response knocked me down a notch or two so that I didn't have a ready reply. She must have sensed that'd she won this round after all because she held up the folder she'd brought in with her and told me, "I've got some news for your dad. Do you want me to walk you through it first?"

Now I understood why she was such a fan of distraction methods. There were some circumstances when a totally different topic was a welcomed thing.

"Let's go downstairs, and you can tell me and Pop at the same time," I suggested, not wanting to waste her time in having to run through it twice.

Twenty minutes later, she began the meeting with us and both of my parents by announcing, "I know you've already said this, but the facts I found prove you aren't Constantine's father."

"You know this how?" Pop asked as my mother looked on with a smile. She didn't look relieved or surprised by this announcement, which just went to prove that she trusted him completely and had never thought the accusation was true in the first place.

"I pulled your credit card records," she replied, obviously glad to walk someone through all her methods.

"How can you do that from so long ago?" he asked, shocked.

"It's not easy, but someone I work with showed me that many of the major providers do keep archived records if you know how to access them," she explained cryptically.

"You…" Pop was searching for a word and finally found it. "You hacked into their system?"

Stephanie blinked a few times at his question. "I accessed information that was held in a secure way," she agreed, rewording his statement to lessen the sound of what she'd done.

"Isn't that illegal?" Pop pushed, crossing a line I wasn't willing to allow with Stephanie.

Before I could say anything, my mother surprised me by speaking up. "Glass houses, dear. You're really not one to question her using whatever skills she might have to gather the information you asked for."

Pop looked surprised – not that my mother had spoken, but at what she was speaking about. "I'm sorry, Stephanie. I didn't mean to sound so…accusatory. I just wanted to understand if the information you accessed could be gotten by just anyone."

"Probably not," Stephanie confirmed. "Most people wouldn't know to look, but for the people that are aware and willing to sort through old records, it's pretty clear."

At that, Pop promised to sit quietly and listen without interrupting, so Stephanie took him through the financial trail she'd found that proved Pop was nowhere near Constantine's mother during the period conception must have occurred. She even cleared a three-month window to be able to state emphatically that Pop couldn't have conceived a child with this woman because during the most likely time it would have occurred, he was out of the country and she was clocking into work every day at a casino. Then if you widened the window of when it might have happened, Pop never went to the casinos the month before or after his trip to Italy, so they didn't even see each other.

When Stephanie mentioned the trip to Italy and spelled out the places he'd been, including pulling a newspaper article that had a picture of Mom and Pop in it, proving he was there and wasn't just laying a false paper trail, I noticed my father began to scowl. It was like the memory of that trip brought up something he would rather have forgotten.

Not letting my father's facial expression slow her down, Stephanie moved on to talking about other people that might be suspects as Constantine's father. She was able to easily rule out Alexander and then spoke of my father's brothers. It was at this point that Pop leaned forward, clearly interested in every word. Being Italian, coming from large families wasn't unusual. Pop had six brothers, so it took her a while to speak of them all, and I couldn't help but notice she didn't do them in birth order. Still, she saved Guido for last, and based on what I knew of Stephanie, I was confident it wasn't coincidence.

"The only person who was at the casino during the two week period that I think was most likely to have been when Constantine was conceived, was your youngest brother Guido. On the day your picture is credited in an Italian newspaper, there is a small mention of you being at a fundraiser in New Jersey, but the photo has Guido in it, not you. And if you look really carefully, the person standing behind your brother is the woman Constantine listed as his mother." At that bomb, she stopped talking and sat back.

"You're saying Guido is this boy's father?" Pop asked, trying to get his head around everything Stephanie has just revealed.

Quickly, she shook her head no. "I'm not in a position to say that much. All I can say is that you aren't, and neither are any of the other people in your family or Mr. Ramos's. The only possibility could be your youngest brother, but looking at financial records and newspaper clippings, I can't find proof of a child being conceived."

"No." Pop was smiling, obviously enjoying her defense of his brother that you can't prove someone had sex; all you can prove is there was an opportunity for them to have hooked up. "You have far surpassed anything I expected, and once again, I am in a position of being in your debt."

Stephanie blushed and looked down, obviously not used to receiving compliments. This fact still surprised me because I'd never met a person that didn't think she was brilliant at this kind of thing, so the idea that people worked around her and weren't constantly complimenting her seemed strange to me. Then again, she worked around people like me, who didn't tend to talk much unless we had something useful to say or a negative message to deliver. When Stephanie was working, there was little we could add to be useful, and we'd never have a reason to be negative, so we were just quiet instead. Maybe she'd misunderstood our silence as a lack of approval. The next time we had a moment together, I was going to bring this up and set the record straight.

"I'm going to have Vincent run a test on Guido and Constantine to see if it is possible that he's the father. If not, I'll turn over the proof that no one in my family or Alexander's is who he is looking for. If it is true, I'll give Guido the chance to inform his son and explain his absence."

I couldn't remember my father ever explaining his intentions like that before. I approved of his plan and found myself admiring him for the second time in a single day.

"And while you're doing all of that," my mother spoke up, "I'm going to steal Stephanie away. I think she needs a break from all this investigating, and I too am feeling very grateful for what she pulled together, so we're going to catch up over a cup of espresso and a slice of tiramisu."

I looked at Stephanie to be sure she was comfortable with my mother monopolizing her afternoon, but the expression on her face told me that she didn't care about anything other than the promise of tiramisu. I'd lost her to a serving of dessert. If I was going to be in her life, I probably needed to get used to that as a possibility.

The women stood and left me alone with Pop once more.

"Please tell me your mother is going to help plan the wedding – soon."

"What wedding?" I was still reeling over losing to a sweet treat so that I wasn't catching his meaning.

"I couldn't have created a woman that was more perfect for you. You _are _planning on marrying her, aren't you?" he spelled it out for me.

"If you'd asked me last week, I would have said no," I told him, going about as far as I was willing to at the moment.

"Give it some thought, son. Women like that don't just fall in your lap every day. I married the first one that turned my world on end, and I've been thankful every day for having her in my life. If you let her get away, you'll spend every spare moment you have regretting it." He had no way of knowing that for sure, but in my heart, I knew it was true.

"And if you could hurry up and come to the right decision, it would mean a lot to me. Something tells me after they share a cup of coffee, your mother is going to be pressuring me for information, so it would help me out if you could give me some news to share sooner rather than later."

"I'll see what I can do to make your life easier, Pop," I teased, wondering when the two of us had last relaxed enough in his office to joke with one another.

"If you're really interested in making my life easier, then a couple of grandchildren would go a long way," he answered with a loud laugh.

It wasn't until I shut the door on my way out of his office that I realized I hadn't panicked at the idea of having children. I guess having a wife and kids of my own had always felt like a vice designed to pull me into a life I didn't want because I'd never pictured it with the right person.

Now all I had to do was find a way to inform Stephanie she was the only person I could picture any of this with, and I'd have it made. On second thought, maybe I should just ask her out for a real date. If nothing else, we could go out for dessert and coffee, and I could spill it all then, when she was too distracted to listen.


	11. Firsts

_All the usual stuff here…nothing is mine._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you once more for your super beta skills. Hmmm, that makes you sound like a super hero. __Of course you are faster than a speeding bullet in turning chapters around, maybe I'm onto something. _

**Chapter 11 - Firsts**

It was time for dinner, and Stephanie hadn't returned to our suite, so I had to assume my mother had kept her all afternoon. I wasn't sure if I should be relieved that she was getting some better company than me to entertain her or if I should be worried that my mother had spent most of the time grilling her about our relationship.

When I walked into the kitchen and heard both of them laughing, I realized I should have considered a third possibility. They might have been trading less-than-flattering stories about me all this time. I wasn't a fan of such self-centered assumptions, but my mother saying, "Speak of the devil," was probably my first clue of the topic of conversation.

"Would I be better served by running out for dinner?" I asked, only partially kidding. Once the words were out of my mouth, I realized I didn't smell anything, making me wonder if it was going to be a necessity instead of a voluntary exile.

"Now that you mentioned it, I believe that would be a good idea," my mother replied, attempting coy but coming across as scheming instead.

"And why is that?" I wondered.

"You need to take Stephanie out so that she can have a change of scenery and so that she can purchase a new dress, which you will be buying for her," Mom informed me.

Stephanie's head snapped up at the mention of money, and she was about to object, but Mom lifted a hand in the universal gesture for stop. She explained, "This is for a family function, so the family needs to cover the cost of your attendance. Besides, you'll also need shoes and some kind of accessories, no doubt, so you should enjoy the experience of dragging my long-suffering son through every store you can manage in order to come up with the perfect outfit. You've only got two days, so I suggest you make the most of tonight to get everything you need."

Then she turned her attention to me and answered my unasked question. "The annual children's hospital benefit is Saturday. Since you're home, I've gotten you both tickets and expect you to attend. It will be nice for everyone in the circle to see you out with us, especially with Stephanie on your arm. After that, if you insist on returning to Trenton, then I'll let you go back to your home, but you have to give me the chance to show her off while she's here."

There were so many messages mixed into that one explanation. First, she was reminding me I hadn't done anything with the family in a public way in a long time. While she understood my need to distance myself from them in Trenton, around here, there was a certain amount of security to be gained from being seen as an important part of the family. On top of that, by having Stephanie as my date, literally on my arm, she would also be provided the safety of being identified as someone who was under my father's protection. Plus, my mother was a very social person, and she was probably spinning all kinds of ways to get Stephanie connected in her social circle, and this was just the first step of sucking her into the family, even if it had to be indirectly at first.

"Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?" I couldn't just accept everything she said; it would be counter to who I was to not push back at least a little. "Stephanie's just been through surgery, I'm not sure taking her out for a long night is a good idea."

"Well, then, the two of you go upstairs and look at stuff online. Once you pick out what you want her to wear, then give it to Maria, and she can pick it up tomorrow morning," Mom countered.

"I meant I don't think going to a party is a good idea. Her immune system is still fragile, and being around all those people is just tempting fate for her to get sick," I argued.

"Stop looking for problems," my mother commanded. "You don't have to stay for very long, and it's not like I'm telling you to circulate and dance for hours. You can literally sit at the table and leave after dinner."

Turning to Stephanie, I tried to convey that I hoped she would side with me on this without being too obvious. "We don't have to go. If you don't feel up to it, we can stay here and have a low-key dinner, maybe watch the game together and give you a chance to relax a little before we head back to Trenton, where you'll have to keep up appearances."

She moved her head from side to side like some kind of human metronome before answering, "I guess an hour or so wouldn't be that stressful, and if I'm going to have to fake feeling good in Trenton, then I may as well practice at the party."

That was so not what I wanted to hear.

"Try on your tux to be sure it still fits," Mom commanded, adding the final nail to my coffin. I hated wearing anything restrictive, but a collar with a bow tie was my absolute least favorite way to dress.

Apparently, my skills of masking my reaction were slipping because I felt her hand make contact with the back of my head before she snapped, "And stop rolling your eyes at me. Seeing you two dressed up so that I can show you off to my friends isn't too much to ask for the woman who gave you life."

Stephanie's hand moved to cover her mouth, and I knew she was struggling not to laugh at the huge load of guilt my mother had just thrown my way. Compared to the regular doses she gave to Vincent, I knew I had it easy, but I still hated it when Mom said things like that.

With expectations made perfectly clear, she turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving us to come up with a plan for the evening.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Honestly, I don't mind skipping this party. In fact, I'd rather not go."

"I know." Stephanie leaned over to squeeze my hand. "But I think it would mean a lot to your parents, and sometimes, we have to do things we don't want to just because it's the right thing to do. Maybe if I'm there to keep you company, it won't be so bad."

Having Stephanie with me was the only saving grace of this whole scheme. "So am I taking you to the mall, or are we looking online?"

"How far are we from a mall?" she asked, basically letting me know which option was more appealing.

An hour later, I was enduring the third store by Stephanie's side as she pulled out dresses, held them up to her body, and then placed them back on the rack. I couldn't tell how they'd look from the fast process she was going through, but I had to assume none of them would work because of how quickly she rejected them and hung them back up.

When she pulled out a deep blue dress and held it up longer than the rest, I was intrigued enough to look at it. The movement of the dress on the hanger showed it wasn't just blue but had something else that made it shimmer when it moved. Against her, the color was beautiful, and I realized I'd never seen a dress like it on anyone else. It was long enough to be formal, but there wasn't an abundance of material, so I figured it was probably straight and would fit close to her. One arm had a long sleeve, but the other arm had nothing, leaving me to imagine that side bare. The neck was high and had some kind of pattern made out of tiny beads. Personally, I loved it and thought the unique nature of the dress fit her perfectly.

She pulled it away from her and held it out to look at it better, and I realized despite the high neck, part of the back was cut out. I knew from past distractions that Stephanie had an amazing back, and it was the memory of one of her performances to lure out a skip that kicked my mouth into gear.

"You should try that one on."

"You think so?" She sounded uncertain. "Don't you worry that the back and side would come off as being…slutty?"

"No, I think the rest of the dress conveys a certain elegance, but the only way to know for sure would be to try it on," I replied, thinking we might be nearing the end of our hunting expedition and getting my hopes up that we might get home in time to still catch part of the game.

It took a few minutes, but I finally convinced her to give the dress a chance and followed her to the dressing room. Just before she stepped in, she spun around and held out her hand to put it on my chest. "I've got it from here."

There was no reason for me to go in with her, and I knew being so far away from Trenton, there was no chance Nick was waiting for her in the ladies dressing room, but I still found it hard to stand there and let her walk away from my sight to an unsecured area.

After what felt like an hour but was apparently only seven minutes, she walked out, looking very uncertain. I, however, was sold immediately. Stephanie was a good-looking woman, and as she had proven repeatedly, she could pull off bar sexy or lady-like, either one, in the right outfit. But the vision in front of me now was one of pure elegance. She was gorgeous, despite the way she kept fidgeting with some imaginary issue on the lower portion of the dress.

I held up a finger and moved it in a circle to indicate I wanted her to spin around. The view from the back absolutely hooked me. I didn't care if she wore it or not on Saturday, but we weren't leaving without this dress coming with us. She stopped moving with her back to me and then turned her head to look at me over her shoulder. It was the most seductive thing I'd ever seen, which I blamed for my mouth working without my permission.

"This is the dress," I informed her. "You're…stunning."

She smiled at me and then finished her circle, this time stopping with her hands on her hips and a lot more confidence than she began the little fashion show with. "Are you sure you want to be seen all night with me in this dress?"

"Ohhhh, yeah," I replied, moving close to her.

She smiled as though she appreciated the less-than-eloquent response on my part, and when I got close enough, she grabbed my shirt and tugged so that we were chest to chest.

"Then in that case, we need to see about what you're wearing so that I'll know if I think this dress should be beside you all night."

"You little tease," I breathed back, finding it difficult to formulate a complete sentence with her looking like this and pressing herself to me.

She gave me a slight shake of her head, as though disagreeing with me. "I've not teased you one bit. You're the one that seems to insist upon keeping distance between us. I've been as obvious as I could be without jumping on you in your sleep."

"But you're recovering," I pointed out, suddenly finding it warm and slightly hard to keep my knees straight.

"Vincent said I was doing amazingly well and that I could do anything I wanted to, using pain as my guide." She stopped gripping my shirt and flattened her palms against me instead. "And at the moment, I'm not feeling any pain per se, but there is an ache I could use some help with."

I'd read somewhere that lack of blood flow could diminish one's thought processes, which is probably why I reacted so poorly and put my hands under her arms to offer support. "Damn it, I knew shopping was a bad idea. What's starting to ache?"

Her laughter was my first clue that I'd missed something big. The step she took out of my grasp while mumbling, "Obviously, jumping on him while he's sleeping is going to be necessary after all," was my second clue.

Disappearing into the changing room, she left me to try to figure out what the hell had just happened. I found myself repeating her words, "an ache I could use some help with," over and over. Each repetition brought greater clarity, and by the end, I was ready to kick my own ass for missing the fact that I had a beautiful woman coming on to me and I absolutely hadn't gotten it and had blown my chance. I'd never call myself a player, but that was bordering on having no social skills, which I'd never thought was my style, either.

When she came back out, she wouldn't look me in the eye, and I felt as though I owed her an apology, but the words wouldn't come. _I'm sorry I'm an idiot_ seemed inadequate.

I decided to try and be helpful instead and hope that she would forget all about that brief lapse in my ability to function appropriately. "Let me take that. Where to next?"

"Shoes," she replied, finally looking at me but with an expression that indicated I might have two heads.

We moved to the department store's shoe department, and she pointed to a chair, instructing to me sit there and not to wrinkle the dress. Normally, I would have made an off-handed comment that I was perfectly capable of handling that without her specific orders, but based on my recent behavior, I felt like it was best to play along and not say a word.

She returned and sat beside me, letting out a long breath. On instinct, I lifted my arm and pulled her against me, pleased when she leaned her head on my shoulder and shut her eyes.

I decided to risk looking like a complete ass by talking again. "Are you okay?"

Without opening her eyes, she nodded that she was fine. "Just tired. Today's been a little longer than I've been used to this week."

"We'll finish up here and go straight home to get you in bed," I told her, glad I could at least do something about her exhaustion.

"You see..." Her head snapped up as she spoke. "It's comments like that that leave me completely clueless about what's going on in your head."

What was confusing about me saying I wanted to get her in bed? Shit, I'd done it again. "You may find this hard to believe after tonight, but most people consider me to be a smart guy."

"I know you're smart," she quickly defended me.

"Even though I'm quiet, I also have social skills," I added. "My mother spent plenty of time drilling them into me."

"After that smack in the kitchen tonight, I can believe she did," Stephanie joked.

"Well, after the last hour, I felt the need to point out that I'm not usually so—" I was struggling to come up with the right word "—obtuse."

"Obtuse," Stephanie repeated. I couldn't tell if she were trying out the word because it wasn't often used or because she didn't understand the meaning.

"Thickheaded, awkward, slow-witted," I explained, listing the synonyms I felt were appropriate.

Her eyes narrowed as I portrayed myself in a less than flattering way, but when I stopped talking, her immediate response was to giggle. She put her hand over her mouth to cover it up, but enough escaped that I knew I was amusing her.

Before I could get too irritated at being the butt of a joke, she spoke. "I know I was acting a little differently. I'm not usually so brazen, but I felt like being subtle wasn't working, and we're running out of time to see what's going on here, so I decided to try and take a little control." Then she put her head back on my shoulder and mumbled, "I knew it was a stupid idea, because there is nothing about me that screams appealing."

"Where did you get that crock of shit?" I blurted out just as a salesperson appeared with five boxes of shoes.

Stephanie dismissed them, saying she could handle trying them on by herself, which gave us a little more privacy. I was disappointed when she sat up to focus on the boxes, but having something to do with her hands must have loosened her tongue. "I got it from past experience. Sure, I can get a skip out of a bar, but that's just by acting like a floozy. A decent guy doesn't look at me and think, _oh yeah, I've got to get closer to that._"

"You have no idea how wrong you are," I informed her.

"Well, an ex-husband who can't even wait to screw around until after I've finished unwrapping all the wedding gifts, a guy who thinks I'm definite friend material but refuses to have a relationship beyond that, a childhood friend who is more than willing to have sex, but later only thinks marriage is a good idea because everyone else is telling him so, and then what appears to be a great new guy who basically tells me that that much history means I'm the girl who is fun to hang out with but isn't really who you want with you all the time proves I'm onto something."

By the time she finished talking, she was on her third box of shoes, and I was ready to punch something. "In case you haven't noticed, except for a few short breaks and whatever that was with my mother today, I've been with you all the time this week."

"Yes, but we're in this weird unreal place, and when we get back to Trenton, you'll go back to your life, and I'll be that girl you'll occasionally hang out with, but you'll be just as happy to tell good night so you can go back to Haywood and away from me to sleep," she argued, continuing to shovel a load that was hard to stomach.

"In case you hadn't noticed, there's a second bed in our suite that I haven't used once since we moved in," I told her, pointing out that I was sleeping with her by choice, not circumstance. "And you were spot on in the dressing room when you said I was the one keeping a distance between us, but it was only out of respect for your injuries and because I wanted to be sure you fully understood what life around me and my family connections would be like. I'm not a normal person; it's not fair to ask you to accept the craziness that comes with me."

"Right, because my life is usually so calm and predictable," she sassed in return, rolling her eyes so that I could see it.

"What I'm trying to say is, because of my family, I don't have any experience with a normal relationship." Explaining this was harder than I thought it would be. "But after being around us for a few days and seeing how many potential skeletons are locked in nearly every closet, if you think you could handle it…"

"I can handle it," she jumped in when I stopped because I couldn't figure out what to say next. "So…"

Damn it, now she expected me to talk again. I'd figured it was too good to be true when she interrupted. Maybe I was making this too hard. I'd never had anything normal, but right now, that was exactly what I wanted with Stephanie. So, I decided to try something I'd never done before. "Would you like to go out with me?"

She blinked a few times, giving me plenty of time to second guess myself. "You mean, like on a date?"

"Yes, on a date," I clarified. "Saturday night, my parents have given me two tickets to a charity ball, and if you'd be willing to come with me, I'd love for you to be my date."

Her entire face lit up when I reframed our previous command performance into a chance for us to get dressed up and go out because we wanted to be together. Hell, the way she was beaming at me, you'd think she'd never been officially asked out before.

"A real first date," she mumbled, basically confirming that what I'd thought was impossible was actually true. "I'd love to," she answered and then looked at the pair of shoes in her hand. The heels weren't as high as a lot of shoes I'd seen her wear, but they looked to me like they'd match the dress I was holding. "I'll need these." She held up the pair, and I smiled, glad to know the chances of her breaking an ankle were lower in these than the other options the clerk had brought over. Then she added, "And I think your mom mentioned accessories."

This was the Stephanie I admired. The self-deprecating side was no doubt a part of her too, but I didn't know how to react to that. I couldn't take out her past, and even if I wacked her ex-husband when I went after Nick, it wouldn't erase the damage they'd done to her. But when she was more in control and assertive, I found myself willing to go along with anything she suggested.

"We can stop by the jewelry counter next."

She shook her head and grinned, an expression I now recognized meant I was about be challenged and would most likely need to carry her purchases to have something to hide my crotch behind. "I don't need jewelry; I need the kind of accessories that come in a little pink bag."

It took me a minute to figure out what she meant. The only pink bags that I was familiar with were from Victoria's Secrets. Once I realized that she intended for us to go lingerie shopping, I wasn't sure if I should suggest I'd wait for her outside the store to keep from embarrassing myself or kneel down and begin thanking God for finally trying to make up for the shit of my life by giving me Stephanie and sexy clothes all at once. Realizing God was most likely not rewarding me, and even if he was, this didn't really seem his style, I kept my mouth shut and just nodded instead.

Two hours later, while driving home, I realized we'd spent more time looking at bras and panties than we had dresses and shoes. When I pointed that out to Stephanie and made the comment that it seemed backwards, since everybody at the party would be looking at the dress and nothing, my chest literally felt bigger when she answered, "I don't really care what they think of how I look, so I didn't need to put much thought into it past picking something that wouldn't embarrass you. But what I'm wearing underneath the dress isn't going to be seen by all those people, which means I was picking out something for your eyes only. Knowing that part of the outfit was for you meant it had to be just right, so it took a lot longer."

I stumbled over how to respond. "I...I don't know what to say... No one's ever said something like to me before." Honesty seemed like a good idea since playing it cool was obviously well beyond me at this point.

"Good," she answered quickly. "Because no one's ever treated me like you do before either, so it looks like we've got a lot of firsts to look forward to."

Maybe I was wrong about this not being a divine reward. At the moment, Stephanie certainly seemed like an angel to me.


	12. The Gift

_JE created the characters below. Unfortunately, I can't claim to be that creative._

_Jenny (JenRar) I also can't claim to be this good of a writer because of all the work you do as the beta. Thank you for the countless hours you've spend correcting my mistakes._

**Chapter 12 – The Gift**

As far as command performances went, this wasn't the worst one of my life, but that didn't mean I wanted to stay a moment longer than necessary, either. Stephanie had been a good sport about my mother hauling her around the ballroom and introducing her to people as "Anthony's _close _friend." It was said with a great deal of emphasis on the word close. The women who my mother played bridge with would react with a big smile and some comment about being thrilled to meet the woman who had finally caught the eye of the most eligible bachelor in the area. The daughters of those same women usually stayed silent and gave Stephanie looks that could have set back her recovery from surgery if eyes were capable of inflicting harm.

Of course, while Stephanie was making her way around the room, being introduced to the mafia elite – whether she understood it or not – I was at my father's right hand. Pop never introduced me officially; he would simply put his large hand on my back and say, "Son, you remember…" whoever happened to be standing there. It put me in an elevated position, as I was given the person's name, but they were not given mine, meaning they should already know who I was. I hated these kinds of power games, but I respected the fact that they were a part of my father's life, so I tried to keep quiet.

Once most of the major players had floated past, Guido came over and whispered something to my father. The only response he received was a fast head shake, meaning no.

This type of concise communication was common in my family, so I didn't think much of it until Guido turned to me and spoke. "I would like to meet your guest."

To some people, it might sound like a politely worded request from a man who rarely spoke and was somewhat out of practice at being social. The look on Pop's face told me he'd already been denied and he was trying to trump my father's authority by coming directly to me.

"She isn't here at the moment," I replied dryly, hoping he understood that I wasn't going to overrule what he'd already been told. For the most part, my father and uncle got along, but if they were about to argue over something, there was no way I was getting in the middle of it.

"I owe her a certain debt, and some things are best said in person," he offered as an explanation.

"Tonight is not the time to speak of such things," Pop jumped in when I didn't respond. "My son is able to respect my wishes on this topic, and you need to, as well."

"But _my_ son will one day be a part of this family as well, and I deserve the chance to thank the woman responsible for bringing him to me," Guido argued.

My attention moved to Pop to see how he'd respond to that bit of news. "Vincent has yet to confirm the results to say whether or not Constantine is your son. Until that is sorted, he is still the boy who infiltrated my organization and lied to me. If it is proven that he is yours, then we will discuss what role, if any, he might have around me. To speak of it in definite terms now is too soon."

From the corner of my eye, I knew Stephanie was making her way back to me. It wasn't that I could see her yet, but I could see the wave of party-goers who were appreciating her in that dress, and I knew her movement around the room was nearly complete.

I took my hand out of my pocket as soon as the sapphire color was close enough to see, and as she moved to my side, I held out my arm, allowing her to slide against me and eliminating any distance.

With her head angled so her lips were shielded by my shoulder, she said, "Your mother has some interesting friends, but their daughters don't seem to like me very much."

It was hard to keep from laughing at her understatement. "I don't think it matters who you are; they're just mad their dream of one day taking my mother's place has been shattered, and you're the easiest target for their disappointment."

"Your mother's place?" Stephanie repeated, obviously not catching my meaning.

The trouble with spending so much time around Stephanie was that she made talking so easy, and on more than one occasion, my mouth had opened without my mind having fully vetted what I was about to say. This definitely fell into one of those instances. "Everyone knows my brother is a doctor and will always be a doctor. So, logically, the publically held opinion has always been that one day, I would take my father's place and run the family. If I did that, then my wife would become one of the most powerful women in this circle. There are plenty of women who are vying for that position, not because they give a shit about me but because they want the respect that should go to my wife." Then I laughed a little and explained, "Of course, the joke is on them because I have no plans to take over the family business, so if someone married me, they would need to be satisfied with a normal life in Trenton, married to a guy that believes in having firepower handy and living by a code of honor, not intimidation, and who doesn't have any interest in taking over my father's business."

"That sounds pretty close to ideal to me," she replied softly. Strangely, she was probably the only woman from whom I trusted that statement to be true.

Before I could ask her if she ever saw herself married again, I saw Uncle Guido moving toward us. Pop was tied up talking to someone I didn't recognize, but I could see his less-than-pleased expression. In order to keep there from being some sort of family feud in public, I abruptly turned to Stephanie and asked her to dance. She allowed me to practically pull her to the edge of the dance floor, in the opposite direction of my uncle, and then wrap my arms around her, possibly holding her tighter than was absolutely necessary, but after the first few seconds, I realized I liked how it felt having her against me, so I didn't bother to lessen my grip.

We swayed together to some nondescript slow song, and I realized I had no memory of the last time I'd danced. I knew I'd done it as a kid, and I thought I'd let some old aunt talk me into a few rounds at a family wedding or two, but it had to have been a decade since I'd held a woman like this. Based on my lack of experience, it should have been awkward, but it was just like everything else involving Stephanie: it felt natural – good, even – and I didn't want the song to end.

Just for fun, I spun her away and then pulled her back to me in order to feel her settle against my shoulder once more.

"You're showing off," she pointed out when she came back to me.

I didn't want to agree, but the truth was too obvious to deny. "Maybe a little."

"Dancing with you is fun," she commented, sighing at the end, as though she were enjoying this as much as I was. "Of course, it didn't escape my notice that we're only out here to avoid your uncle. Are you going to tell me what that's all about?"

I used to say if I got married, it needed to be to a woman who had a sharp mind, but now that I'd found a woman who fit that description so well, I realized I wasn't as excited about her keen skills of deduction as I'd thought I'd be. It was hard to keep her off guard enough to be unaware of what was going on with the family dynamics.

I decided there was no point in dodging her question. She'd get pissed that I was hiding stuff from her, and she'd already proven herself more than capable of keeping my family's secrets. "Uncle Guido wants to thank you for piecing together the clues that could mean Constantine is his son. Pop doesn't want it to be spoken of until the blood work from Vincent comes back and either confirms or disproves it. Since Pop told him not to speak to you, I'm trying to help keep the peace by keeping you two apart."

She laughed at that, and before I could ask what was so funny, someone had gotten the drop on me with my defenses down and was tapping on my shoulder to cut in and dance with Stephanie. I turned around, ready to tell whoever it was to piss off, but my brother was standing there with a teasing grin on his face.

"I never thought I'd see the day that I could sneak up on you. You were always the one telling me to be more aware of my surroundings, and now I can finally return the favor."

Something about that comment struck Stephanie as particularly hysterical, because even with her hand over her mouth, I could hear her laughter.

"Keep yucking it up," I told her with a teasingly firm brow, "and I'll ask Vincent for exercise suggestions we can implement beginning early tomorrow morning."

That wiped the grin off her face, which allowed me to bow and walk back to my father's side with a little dignity remaining, leaving her to dance with one of the few men here that I trusted enough to touch her.

Before I got all the way to my parent's table, I could hear my mother telling someone to keep their voice down and then complaining, "You two are twenty years past the age of this kind of petty sibling argument." With that, she spun around and walked over to the dessert table to pick out a second offering

I looked at my father and waited, knowing he'd give in.

"She doesn't understand why your uncle is being so pigheaded about speaking to Stephanie, and then she also doesn't understand why I refuse to allow it."

"You're leaving in a day or two, and I figure I may never have the chance to see her again. Something this big deserves a word of gratitude," Guido argued once more.

"Why wouldn't you see her again?" I questioned, trying to keep my uncle from getting so gloomy, as was his natural manner of thought. This time it was my father rubbing his neck and looking anywhere but at me. "What?"

Pop spoke up first, probably knowing Guido wasn't going to. "We like this one. Hell, we'd love to see her as much as you'd let us. But you aren't exactly known for your long-term relationships. I think he's just saying that if you operate like you usually do, then any day now, you'll come up with a reason why you two would never last, and after you leave the compound, we won't have the chance to speak to her again."

My hand went to my neck, a mirror of the nervous habit Pop had just displayed. "What if I didn't operate like I usually do?"

"Then my quality of life would dramatically increase because your mother would devote all her attention to getting you two married as soon as possible, and then she could start pushing you for grandchildren," Pop chuckled as he answered. Then the smile fell from his face, and he stepped closer, "All kidding aside, are you that serious about this one?"

There was no simple way to answer that question without giving everything away. Finally, I decided my father had always kept my confidences, and I was obviously in way over my head here, so a little parental advice might be helpful. I nodded and then looked at his face in time to see it transform into an expression I'd rarely seen. It was warm, almost proud, and solely focused on me.

"Then what are you going to do about it?" he pushed, asking me the question I was hoping he'd answer for me.

"Take it one step at the time and see what happens, I guess," I answered, hating the feel of the words as I said them.

"No," Pop quickly disagreed. "This woman obviously means something to you because you are willing to change your whole life for her."

Was I? Is that what I was proposing? "I thought my life was going to be more or less the same, except I would be sharing it with Stephanie."

"My boy, when you share your life with the right woman, nothing about it remains the same," Pop advised with a laugh. "The flip side is that you're so happy, you no longer care about the changes."

Happy wasn't a word that anyone had ever used to describe me, but when I glanced back to the dance floor and saw Stephanie and Vincent laughing, I realized that at this moment, despite the confusion about the future, I was happy to be here with her. It seemed like a stretch to think of me feeling this way outside of the party atmosphere, but then, most of the things I felt around Stephanie were beyond what I'd ever expected, so maybe this was possible, too.

When the song ended, Pop reached in his trousers, pulled out something he concealed in the palm of his hand, and then held it out in my direction. "You can start by giving her this," he suggested, slipping a small velvet bag in my hand and telling me, "I brought it with me, hoping to see something that might give me some hope for you. I've watched you flounder alone for far too long, Anthony. Give her a chance to make you happy."

I looked at the small bag, catching a glimpse of something that sparkled inside.

"Remember what Nonna taught you when you give it to her," he added before turning to walk in my mother's direction.

"What was that all about?" Stephanie asked, her face still rosy from the light exercise on the dance floor.

My initial reaction was to tell her nothing, slip the bag back into my pants, and pretend nothing had happened when she was away from me. But when she put her hand on my chest, my hand instinctually covered hers, holding her there.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" she reminded me.

"Let's get some fresh air," I suggested, pointing to a balcony at the side of the ballroom.

When we walked outside, one of the men my father had brought with him followed us, checked for anyone else, and then moved to the doorway to stand guard.

"Do you always have bodyguards?" Stephanie asked, not missing what had occurred.

"No, but tonight, I decided I'd play nice and keep my parents happy by letting them shadow me. It's not usually necessary, but this is a family function, so there's no harm in being careful," I explained, realizing this had been such a part of my life for so long that I rarely noticed it anymore.

She nodded and then brought me back to the reason I'd sought some privacy by asking, "Now what is it you wanted to talk about?"

I leaned against the railing and opened my legs to pull her to me and hold her close. "I'm so far out of my experience here that I don't even know how to start."

"Try the beginning," she prompted with a sweet smile. "I hear that's the best place to start."

Years of experience holding back my reactions was all that kept me from calling her a smartass for that comment. "I don't have much to recommend me," I started, deciding to just shoot from the hip and see what happened. I was tired of questioning myself and feeling so uncertain of what was going on between Stephanie and me. I was going to jump in the deep end, and we'd either come out swimming, or any hope of us moving past this week together would drown, never to surface again. "I'm quiet and difficult to get to know. I keep every detail about myself tightly held, and the idea of giving someone the power to hurt me goes against every instinct I have."

Her head dipped slightly, but she didn't break eye contact. It was that sign of strength in her that allowed me to keep talking.

"Around you, I talk and share details that you didn't even ask about. I've opened up to you, and I trust you in a way I didn't think I could. You're deep inside me, and if you walk away…it's going to hurt." Damn, I sounded like a woman and was only able to get the words out because I knew there was no chance the guys at RangeMan would ever hear them.

Stephanie lifted a hand from my chest and covered my mouth to stop me from continuing my random ramblings. "I get what you're trying to say. I'm kind of allergic to talking about feelings and personal stuff, too. Maybe it's easy for us to do it together because we both understand where the other person is coming from. In the end, I think what you need to know is that if you walked away from me, it would hurt me, too. I've been trying to come up with reasons to need a security presence so that I'd have an excuse to be around you when we went back home. I'm not going anywhere unless you make me, so I think we're both feeling the same things."

I took her hand from my mouth and kissed her fingertips before moving it back to rest over my heart. "Then in that case, I have something for you," I told her while reaching into my pocket to pull out the little satchel Pop had just given me. As I fully opened the top and tipped it up to dump the contents into my empty hand, I hoped I was right about what was inside and I wasn't about to embarrass myself.

Fortunately, my palm filled with a delicate silver chain that had been cut in such a way that the thin metal caught the light and seemed to glitter as it moved. In a very simple setting, a large pearl was displayed. "This belonged to my Nonna, my father's mother. Her husband gave it to her a few weeks after they met. He knew she was something special and accepted that they needed to get to know each other better before moving into a commitment like marriage, but he wanted a way to show her how he felt about her. Pearls usually stand for innocence," I repeated the words my grandmother had taught me. "I'm giving this to you because that's how I feel about you. It's pure and not something I've ever experienced before. I want you to have this while we get to know each other better to remember that even when I'm quiet and seem to not be doing much, that deep inside me, something is growing, kind of like this pearl did a long time ago."

That was all the sappy shit I could manage, but the way Stephanie's eyes glistened told me it was enough to get my point across.

"That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

My fingers fumbled a little with the clasp, but I finally managed to get it open and held it up as an invitation for her to let me put it on her. She surprised me by leaning closer to me instead of turning around as I'd expected her to. It took me a couple of tries to get the clasp closed correctly so that it would stay on, but when I pulled my hands away, I couldn't help but notice how beautiful such a simple piece of jewelry looked on her.

While I was distracted admiring just how attractive she was, Stephanie moved even closer, and it wasn't until her mouth was within two inches of mine that I realized what she was about to do. I wasn't the traditionalist that my father was, but there were some things that I felt like the guy should do, and leading the first kiss was definitely one of those things. With that thought, I quickly eliminated the distance and pressed my lips to hers.

Apparently, I was too quick in declaring my girlie moment to be over, because I swear when she opened her lips and let me fully kiss her, there were lights flashing behind my closed eyes, making me think of fireworks. Stephanie let the weight of her body fall against me, which made me moan. The sound seemed to excite her, based on the newfound enthusiasm she unleashed, but it scared me. I was the man who didn't talk, and I sure as hell didn't make any noises. Apparently, where Stephanie was concerned, all my former habits were gone, and I had no idea how to predict my reactions anymore.

Of course, the moment she let out one of the sounds I used to associate with her first bite of a meatball sub from Pino's, I realized how I reacted didn't matter one bit; I just wanted to hear more of that sound, and maybe a little louder the next time. For her part, Stephanie approached kissing the way she did everything – full of fire and passion. I was thankful to be leaning against the railing because I wasn't entirely sure that my knees would hold me with my blood flow so severely compromised.

She managed to find a way to pull back much sooner than I wanted her to, but the fact that she seemed to be breathing harder made me feel pretty damn good, knowing I'd affected her that much.

"How much longer do we have to stay?" she asked, giving me hope that this night was about to get so much better than I'd thought possible.

"If we tell Mom and Pop goodbye, we could leave right now," I told her, hoping she'd be on board with that plan.

"Give me a second," she answered, confusing me. She must have seen that I didn't understand why she seemed so eager to leave one moment and hesitant to take the exit I was offering her next. "I need to pull myself together and calm down, or every person in there is going to know we were out here necking like a couple of teenagers."

I couldn't really remember necking. I'd had a few awkward kisses as an early teen, and then I'd skipped right into sex. Now that I thought about, this was the first time I'd been with someone and so enjoyed the connection of kissing them that I wasn't in a rush to move on. There was no doubt I wanted to move on, but before she pulled away, it hadn't been what I'd been thinking about. I'd been in the moment, and for the first time in my life, I'd felt completely happy with exactly what I had and wasn't thinking of a way to improve it because it had been about as perfect as I could imagine anything on Earth being.

After a moment or two, she nodded and pulled back even more so that she was supporting her full weight and I could follow her example. Unfortunately, while she was pulling herself together, I was thinking about more of what we'd been doing or about moving this whole kissing thing back to my suite in the compound, which would mean even more, and my tux was definitely not lying down as smoothly as it had been. There was no way my parents would miss that reaction.

The sound of Stephanie's laughter proved that giggling is a pretty effective form of birth control, because my body began to lose some of its enthusiasm. "Sorry," she squeaked out an apology. "I wasn't laughing at you exactly. I was more thinking that for once, I might not be the only one that people could look at and instantly know what I'd been doing."

"Come on, funny girl," I said, taking her hand in mine and marveling at how much I liked holding it. "Let's go tell everyone that you've had enough of the party and I want to get you straight to bed."

"At least you're going with the honest approach," she smarted off again. "Maybe we should just tell them we're ready to call it a night."

Her version did sound a little more G-rated, so I quoted her word for word when we got Pop's attention. He looked concerned until his eyes fell to the necklace around Stephanie's neck, and then his worry transformed into joy, "Of course, my boy. Of course." Then he pulled me to him in a one-armed hug and whispered, "Remember, the pearl is supposed to mean innocence. Be careful that you don't take away her ability to wear it anymore."

I refused to let myself blush, but I was pretty embarrassed that my father knew exactly what I was planning on doing. He laughed at what he probably thought was a clever joke and then stepped around me to hug Stephanie. He whispered something in her ear, which made her smile, and when they broke away, I noticed her hand was on the pendant.

"I'll let your mother know," he told me, letting me know that our chances of getting out of here at a reasonable time were much better than they had been. "You two take a limo back and enjoy your…rest."

In order to avoid him making any other attempts to be humorous, I pulled Stephanie back to my side and escorted her to the main doors to finally get away from the crowds and back where it was just the two of us for a while.

I released her hand only long enough to let her climb into the back of the waiting limousine. And once the door closed after I got in, she moved closer so that we were touching once more.

"Would you like the divider up, Mr. Pertucci?" the driver asked the first of the standard questions he usually called out.

I looked down at Stephanie, who seemed to be growing more attractive by the minute, and then I remembered my father's words and my own reflection about never having really necked with a woman before. "You can raise the petition."

"Are we heading back to the compound?" he asked the last question he would need an answer to before giving us our privacy.

"No," I answered, causing Stephanie's head to snap up. "You can drive around for an hour and then head back to the house."

"Of course, sir. I'll stay on the highway to keep the ride smooth," he offered before lifting the divider to finally give us the sensation of being completely alone.

It was almost amusing to watch the questions fly across Stephanie's face as she tried to make sense out of why we'd left the party in such a hurry to just drive around aimlessly. Finally, she found the words she needed to speak. "Are we trying to avoid someone?"

I shook my head no. "This is about you and me. No one else factors into the equation for tonight."

"Then why aren't we going back to the house?" She couldn't stop her need for answers.

"Because I want a chance to experience all things I've missed by being a tight-assed, isolated loner," I replied, knowing it was an accurate description of how I'd behaved, even if it sounded harsh.

Her eyes narrowed, and I wondered if she was about to fuss at me for insulting myself. Then her face seemed to clear, and she grinned. "You want us to make out in the car, don't you?"

"There's no limit to the things I want us to do," I answered. "But right now, I'll try to content myself with some more of what we started on the balcony."

The bottom lip of her mouth disappeared between her teeth while she weighed something before sharing her next thought with me. "Then you need to know something about me."

It seemed kind of late for her to disclose some communicable disease that would foil my plans for the evening. Even still, I waited patiently to see what she thought needed to be confessed at this moment.

"I'm a greedy person. I don't have much experience with denying myself, and moderation isn't really a part of my vocabulary. So you might be content with a _little_ more of what we started, but I'm going to want a _lot_ more than that. Do you think that will be a problem?"

There's something that few men can resist, and that's a blatant challenge. "I'm an Italian man in line to lead a large mafia organization. Stephanie, there's nothing you could want that I wouldn't want to give you. And this particular request is definitely something I can guarantee won't be a problem."

"Then maybe you should ask the driver to turn on some music," she suggested.

"Why?" I wondered, slightly insulted that I wasn't enough to set the mood for her.

"Because I'm not exactly known for being quiet, and if you're not all hot air with that guarantee, then I'm pretty sure you're going to want some background noise to cover up what's going on back here."

My hand instantly went to the call button for the driver, and as I all but told him to be sure he wasn't listening in order to protect our privacy while we were doing all kinds of unseemly things in the back of the car, I heard my father's warning that the right woman would change everything about your life and you wouldn't care. At the time, it didn't seem possible, but as I eagerly broadcast my private business to an employee of my father, I couldn't help but notice there was a big smile on my face.


	13. Morning Revelations

_I did not create the characters below. JE has that honor all to herself._

_Jenny (JenRar) once again, you've worked your beta magic on something I sent to you. Thanks!_

**Chapter 13 – Morning Revelations**

"You're up late this morning," my father pointed out as I practically stumbled into the kitchen, desperate for a cup of coffee. Fortunately, there were a few things one could always depend on this house having, and strongly brewed coffee was one of them.

I made a non-committal sound, hoping he'd drop the subject when he saw I wasn't willing or able to have a conversation at the moment. I'd barely been able to manage putting on some sweatpants, so I knew trying to string words together was way beyond me.

Laughter was his response instead. "I'm assuming from the way you look like you've been in some sort of brawl, yet you're still smiling, that Stephanie liked the necklace and was willing to show her appreciation."

Few people have the talent of knowing when to stop pushing, and apparently, my father now lacked that skill as well. The last line was one too many for me to walk away from.

"The way I look has nothing to do with Stephanie's thanks for a gift."

"Really?" he asked, hiding his mouth behind his own mug, most likely to cover up his smile. "Then I apologize for my error and assumption. I hope whoever gave you the bruises on your neck looks worse than you do this morning."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Stephanie literally stumbled into the kitchen, wrapped up in a robe purchased for me and nearly swallowing her up, as it was three sizes too big for her small frame. Her hair was a wild mass of curls, there were circles under her eyes giving evidence of our late night, and just under her chin was a matching bruise to the ones on my neck and shoulder. A part of me hated that my father was probably looking smug at the moment because there was no doubt what we'd been doing last night based on Stephanie's appearance right now. Of course, a larger part of me was looking pretty damn smug myself because, despite her exhaustion, she looked absolutely sexy as hell sporting her just-fucked look. I had been feeling too tired to function, but taking in the vision in front of me, I was suddenly feeling a second wind.

"Forget it," Stephanie interrupted my thoughts. "Unless Vincent can put in an IV giving me a straight shot of coffee, I don't have the energy for whatever put that look on your face."

Pop barked out a laugh, causing Stephanie to turn an endearing shade of pink, which made me realize she hadn't even noticed the man in the dark blue suit reading the paper in the breakfast nook. I held out an arm in invitation, secretly thrilled when she immediately walked to me and buried her face against my bare chest. She needed a safe place to hide, and I was able to give her that. Being around Stephanie was giving me purpose in ways I'd never considered.

I used to think my father spoiled my mother by regularly giving her gifts that had nothing to do with her birthday or Christmas. Now, less than twenty-four hours after finally admitting how I felt about this woman, I found myself wanting to give her the world. A bigger man would probably apologize to Pop for having misjudged him, but I decided admitting it to myself was good enough.

"Here," I whispered, offering her my oversized mug of coffee.

"Sugar?" she asked, staring at the drink suspiciously.

"Two," I admitted, confessing to my slight sweet tooth. The mug held nearly two full cups, so I pulled the sugar bowl back to the edge of the counter and lifted the spoon to add more at her command. "How many do you want?"

"Two more should do it," she replied quietly, watching me as though she didn't believe I'd actually give her that much.

After stirring in the two rounded teaspoons of sweetener, I handed the cup to her and watched as she took a tentative sip, shut her eyes, and then moaned quietly. It reminded me of four o'clock this morning and how she was nearly too exhausted to even respond, but the sound she made was so content, I knew our time together had pleased her. I was pretty sure my satisfied smile stayed on my face even after I drifted off to sleep.

"That's so good," she said, finding her voice once more.

"I see you and my son share a need for caffeine before you can function properly," Pop spoke up once more, leaning back in his chair and watching us together.

She looked at me and then down to the cup in her hand before asking, "Was this yours?"

Nodding, I moved only far enough to get a fresh cup to fill up for myself, feeling her eyes on me as I prepped my drink and took a large swallow, not caring that it burned as it went down. Once I had that initial taste in me, I moved so that Stephanie was against me once more and found that my coffee tasted better when she was touching me.

I was lost enough in the sensations of touch and taste that Uncle Guido managed to come in without me noticing. "Oh, hell. Does this mean on top of having to look at my brother and his wife act all mushy that we can look forward to regular displays from you, too?"

Once again, Pop found my situation humorous and didn't say a word to correct his brother the way he normally would have. I hoped that was a sign that they'd declared a truce from last night's tension.

Apparently, my reasoning skills were shot to hell this morning, because the next words from Uncle Guido's mouth were directed to Stephanie. "I'm glad my nephew is using good sense about keeping you around. It will give me the chance to thank you properly for whatever you did to prove I had a son."

Stephanie's head snapped up, as though she were surprised to be spoken to. There was a brief moment of silence before she replied, "Actually, Vincent is the one who will prove if you have a son or not, so your thanks probably should go to him."

"Say what you want," Uncle Guido responded, acting as though he were unaware of the daggers my father's eyes were shooting his way. "I don't exactly have an easy time with women, so I never thought it would even be possible to have a kid, much less a son."

"That's because you're as wide as you are tall, and there's twice as much hair on your back as on your head," my father bit out, drawing attention to the fact he was in the room.

Their insults to each other were pretty common when they were together, so I knew not to worry about the less than flattering words. "Hey, don't judge," Uncle Guido demanded. "Twenty years ago, people used to mistake me for you, so this may be a warning of what you still have to look forward to."

"I'm older than you by ten years," Pop reminded his youngest brother. "Unless I decide to make whiskey a consistent part of my food pyramid, I'm not too worried about us reclaiming the resemblance we used to bear."

"You'd drink, too, if you were always alone." The truth and pain in his words stopped Pop from replying with whatever had been on the tip of his tongue.

"Come on, _fratellino_. Let's check in with Vincent to see if he has any news," Pop said, folding his newspaper and placing it neatly on the table before walking out with my uncle right behind him.

I looked down at Stephanie, who seemed confused, so I took a guess and said, "It's Italian for little brother."

"Do you speak Italian?" she wondered.

"Not usually." I was surprised at how easily I answered any question she asked. "I understand it better than I can speak it."

She looked back down at her cup and then up at me once more, so I waited to see what question she would throw my way next. "Are we going back to Trenton today?"

"That was the plan," I answered, wishing there was a valid reason to say no. "But we can change the plan and stay here as long as you'd like."

There was a look of uncertainty on her face, which was something I hadn't seen very often since we'd been here. It made her look lost, and I hated the way it made me feel. "What is it?"

"We haven't talked about Nick, and if I'm going back home, I should probably come up with a plan, shouldn't I?"

"You don't have to," I reminded her. "In fact, I can settle you in my apartment at Haywood for tonight and then go hunting for Nick while you're sleeping. By tomorrow morning, you wouldn't have to worry about a thing."

She quickly shot down the plan I wished she'd agree to. "No, you can't do that while I hide at RangeMan."

"Would you rather stay here?" I offered, knowing she wasn't disagreeing because of geography but feeling the need to offer it just in case.

She shook her head no, dashing my hopes once more. "I have to confront him myself," she said, causing my heart to beat twice as fast.

"The last time you confronted him, I had to bring you here for my brother to save your life," I reminded her, flooded with the memory of how horrible she'd looked when I'd found her. Those images were enough to make me set down my coffee so that I could hold her tighter to me.

Instead of fighting my sudden need for contact, she too abandoned her morning beverage and clung to me. Time didn't mean much as we stood there like that, but she found her voice eventually and spoke with her cheek still on my shoulder. "I don't want to do it, but I refuse to live in fear, and I won't make you kill someone just so that I don't have to. That's the coward's way out, and I can't do it."

"It's not being a coward to let someone else take care of him," I argued. "Stephanie, you don't want this on your hands. He hurt you, and for that, he needs to pay, but you don't have to be the one to do it. There's a line of people all wishing for a chance to stand up for you."

"Would you…" she started and then stopped.

I held back from answering, unable to believe she didn't already know I absolutely would take Nick out for her. There had to be something else she wanted to ask.

"Would you be with me so that I can confront him, but if I can't…if it's too hard to do…then…"

I used my fingers to lift her head so that she would look at me. "I will be by your side anytime you want me there. If you just need me there to quietly support you, then I can do that. And if you need me to finish what you start, then you can absolutely count on me to do that, as well."

She nodded, her eyes glistening with moisture I could see she was fighting to keep from falling as tears. It wasn't the first time I'd wondered if she could do this. I'd seen her rise to the occasion so many times since I'd known her that I knew better than to discount what she was capable of. But I couldn't stop myself from wondering if the price she'd pay for pushing herself was higher than she handle after it was finished. There had to be a way to let her have a chance to confront Nick, but not have to go so far as to take his life.

Just as I was trying to come up with something that could offer the compromise I was convinced she needed, my father and his brother walked by and were loudly discussing the fact that our family had grown by another Pertucci male. I guess it was definite, then. The Uncle most people thought was incapable of getting a woman to give him the time of day was the father of a grown son.

Almost as if it were divine intervention, a plan formed in my head. "How would you feel about extending our stay by twenty-four hours?" I asked, struggling to keep the smile off my face.

"I'm happy to stay here if there's a reason to, but I don't want to change our plans just because I'm dreading what will happen when we go back. It's just putting off the inevitable," she answered, making me admire her for that strength and resolve.

"No, I have an idea of how to give you a chance to confront Nick without putting you in a difficult or dangerous position," I cryptically threw out.

She made a sound that I took to mean she liked the idea of what I was saying but didn't see how it was possible.

"Give me a few minutes to make a few phone calls, and then I'll run it past you," I said, stepping away from her only because I had a new mission to take that look of agony off her face.

Her head tilted to the side, and I could see she was intrigued enough to not fight me on it. Finally, she shrugged and turned to grab the coffee pot for another refill before saying, "Then if you're going to be busy for a while, I'm going to try out the swimming pool you call a tub in your bathroom."

She picked up her cup and started to walk away, but I found it hard to watch her leave, so I grabbed her wrist to stop her, and when she spun around to look at me, I said the first thing that popped into my head. "Keep your head above the bubbles."

It took her a few blinks before her face transformed into a smile, but I couldn't tell if it was because she was still technically waking up and was slow on the uptake or if my comment had been confusing. "See, that's why I love you," she spoke up to explain. "Every time I think I can predict what you'll say or do, you turn around and say something like that. Being around you keeps me on my toes." Then she stepped up and placed a soft kiss on my lips before walking out of the kitchen and heading to the elevator.

Of course, I wasn't able to return the kiss because my mind was still trying to process what she'd said. Hearing her use the words that she loved me had narrowed my world down to the single verb choice in that sentence. Everything she said after that point was a blur that I vaguely thought might be complimentary, but I was still stuck on the idea that she loved me. Did she mean it as in _I'm growing to care for you_, or did she mean it with a capital L, as in _this is it and it will last forever_? How did I figure that out? And how did I feel about it either way?

It turned out, I didn't need time to dwell on that little mystery, because I felt the answer the second I dared to pose the questions. The friendship, admiration, and respect I had felt for her for years had grown as I'd gotten to know her better. But on top of all that, there was something new in me, as well. Despite having never felt it before, I knew it was love for the curly headed woman upstairs in my bathtub. For the first time, I understood why my parents had always thrown out "there's no way to tell you how you know, but when you're in love, you just know." For years, I'd accused them of copping out on that answer, but for the first time ever, I understood. I couldn't describe in definite terms why I was so sure, but the more I thought about it, the more confident I became. It made no sense – we'd really only had a week to get to know each other, and none of that time had been spent in real life scenarios – but I knew I loved her.

"Were you planning on doing something, like getting dressed, or were you just going to stand in the kitchen all day?" Pop spoke from the door, not trying to hide his amusement.

I couldn't let that satisfied smirk stay on his face, so I decided to shock it off instead of smarting off the way I typically would. I walked over to him, grabbed his neck in my hands, and leaned in to place a kiss on both of his cheeks before stepping back and saying, "I never thought I'd see the day when I would say this, but thanks for the advice you've given me. For the first time ever, I can see you're a lot smarter than I gave you credit for."

As I walked out, I heard him say, "Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?" Then as I turned to go to the stairs, he yelled out, "Wait, what advice?"

I let myself into the suite silently, glad that my skills and the padded nature of the carpet in my parents' house allowed for such stealth. Once I shut the door to the second bedroom, I relaxed, knowing that Stephanie would most likely be in the bathroom with the door closed and wouldn't be able to hear the conversations I was about to have.

First, I called Les, needing a little more information.

"Yo, man. Tell me you're coming back today, because without Beautiful here, it's boring as hell."

"I think we're coming back tomorrow, but that's all going to depend on whether or not you can help me clean up a loose end or two," I replied, feeling a strange burning in my chest when Les spoke of wanting Stephanie to come back home so she could be around the guys. If going home meant having to compete for her attention, I wasn't as sure it was a good idea anymore.

"Name it, and it's done," Les assured me, proving once more he was a great partner in crime.

"Has RangeMan been able to keep some kind of eyes on Stephanie's former flame, Nick?" I asked, needing this information before we could move forward.

"Yep," Les drew out the last letter of his response by letting it pop, and I knew there was more to the story. "He's been dutifully serving the public by day, but by night, he's made stops at Stephanie's apartment and her parents' house before going over to Johnny's Bar to get smashed."

"Has he made trouble for her at her parents' house?" I asked, not certain if that might be a problem or not.

"I don't think so," Les reported. "He's sat in his car mostly, like he's on a weak-assed stakeout." I was formulating my next question, but before I could ask it, Lester jumped back in. "Then this morning, when I was at the station, the good Detective Morelli came over and asked if Stephanie was okay, because he hadn't seen her around in a while."

When a growl of complaint that Joe was still keeping tabs on Stephanie broke loose, Santos told me to stand down. "He said he only picked up on it because he happened to be at Johnny's Bar a couple of nights ago, and he overheard a certain public servant complaining that his woman was missing and saying that when she finally got her ass back home, he was going to teach her a lesson she'd never forget. Joe was worried that between the booze Nick was putting away and the easy way he spoke of beating on our girl that he might have already hurt her."

This was exactly what I thought would happen. There was no way I was going to let Nick live, but hearing that he wasn't even trying to hide his intentions just made my plan that much easier to implement.

Les started talking again, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Now... You told me she was with you because after the break up, she needed a change of scenery, and I figured if they split, it had hurt her somehow, but you're going to answer my next question, and you aren't going to give me some kind of half-truth bullshit. You're going to use real words and spill it."

This was exactly what I wanted to avoid. I knew Les and Stephanie were good friends, and I also knew I was going to need his help to pull off what I needed to. But I hadn't talked to her about this, and I knew she was opposed to anyone at RangeMan knowing what happened.

"Did he hurt her more than just screwing with her head and her heart?" Les asked.

"Yes," I answered, feeling it was a safe enough question that I hadn't exactly betrayed her.

"I'll kill him with my bare hands," Lester blurted out, apparently not needing any more information. Then he seemed to snap back to the present and asked, "Is there a damn good reason why you've been sitting on this information and haven't gotten rid of this piece of shit before now?"

"Yep." I copied the way Les had said the word earlier, complete with the pronounced pop at the end. "Stephanie made me promise not to say a word about what really happened, and she is under the delusion that she wants to be a part of what happens to Nick."

"No way in fucking hell," he practically yelled in my ear. "Tell me you haven't promised her anything."

"I've promised to respect her wishes," I interrupted his rant, understanding how he felt completely. "But there's no way I'm going to let her do something that will change who she is."

"All right." He was obviously pulling himself back together after that last admission on my part. "Then what's the plan?"

"She's under the impression that spilling the truth to RangeMan will put us all in mortal peril," I began, trying to say as much as I could without being completely direct and betraying her.

"Man, you sound like some kind of creepy novel writer. So the fireman says if she tells us what he did, he'll kill us all? How is going to manage that? Is he a firefighter by day and a ninja by night?"

"I don't know, but arson is a possibility," I suggested, realizing how easy it could be for him to do serious damage. "Anyway, I need you to pick him up today and get him transported to a place my family owns so that she has a chance to safely confront him and get the answer to some questions. After that, she can leave, and I can finish this once and for all."

"I've got your back for the pick up and transport," he answered exactly as I'd expected him to. "You need some help with the clean up afterward?"

"Negative," I replied, not wanting to say any more.

"Come on, man. If you're going to do this, then finish it right. Ram is the clean-up man, and he can do it so that there ain't any evidence to trace back," he reminded me of one of the main reasons Ram was so important at RangeMan.

"I get that, but I've got…" I almost said family, but I couldn't bring myself to disclose that much. "I've got connections that can do the same thing, and then I don't have to involve RangeMan except for you for the pick-up."

"And transport," he jumped in, reminding me that standard procedure when moving someone like this was to have one guy drive while the other rode in the back with the unconscious body. That way if he woke up, you were still making forward progress on the road while someone else was taking care of the problem in the back.

"Don't need coverage for the transport," I disagreed. "I'm going somewhere that RangeMan can't be, so I'm going to have to secure him completely and drive like hell."

"I don't like it," Les argued. It didn't sound like much, but I knew it was a guy's version of saying he was worried about me.

"You don't have to like it, but that's the way it has to be," I informed him, not giving him any room to argue with me. "It's the only way to give Stephanie the closure she needs without letting her do something she'll regret later."

"Do you have backup where you're taking him?" Les followed up.

I thought about swarm of people all over the compound who had sworn an oath to protect my father and his entire family from any harm. That would have been enough to tell Les I had it covered. But when my mind settled on Pop, Uncle Guido, and Vincent, I felt a lot more secure in saying, "My back is securely covered man. No worries."

"All right. Just tell me when and where." Les was ready to follow through in whatever wacky plan I had, no matter what I might propose.

Stephanie had once pointed out that Vincent had one foot in the real world and one foot in my father's. I had envied his ability to have a life in both places – to really belong fully in both. But talking to Les and hearing his concern and his willingness to help me no matter what I proposed struck me with something I'd never thought of before. I had the ability to do the same thing, if I was just willing to open up and claim my spot in both places.

I'd already proven I could open up with Stephanie, but that was totally different than being my real self around the guys. Maybe if she was by my side, it wouldn't be as hard as I'd always thought it would be.


	14. Promises Made Must be Kept

_JE created the characters below. All the usual complaining that she gets the credit instead of me applies._

_Jenny (JenRar) as usual, you saved the day with your brilliant beta skills. Thank you for all your hard work. _

**Chapter 14 – Promises Made Must Be Kept**

"Didn't your mother teach you how to knock?" Stephanie asked sarcastically when I walked into the bathroom where she was soaking in my tub.

It only took me a second and a half after opening the door and letting myself in to realize that wasn't the right thing to do. For one thing, it was a major boundary I didn't really have a right to cross. But more importantly, after I stepped in and realized how adorable she looked, surrounded by bubbles with her hair pinned up on top of her head, I felt the sudden need to sit down. I wasn't ill, so the sexy image in front of me was the only thing I could blame my light-headed condition on.

Seeing that I wasn't going to answer, Stephanie tried a different approach. "Was there a reason you came in so quickly, or were you hoping for a turn in the water before all the bubbles were gone?"

"Where did the bubbles come from?" I blurted out, not sure where the question came from.

"They were in a basket on the counter. I figured they were always there," she explained. When I shook my head no, she laughed and said, "Well, I guess I'll have to ditch the image I had in my head of you enjoying a good bubble bath."

"I can't say that I remember ever having one," I answered and then added, "But looking at you in there, I can say I'm definitely enjoying the bath."

From the bottom of the tub, her toes peeked out, and she looked at her foot to say, "It's a really big tub. If you want me to believe that, you'll need to climb in with me."

The final piece of evidence of how I felt about Stephanie was the fact that I was literally slipping into the tub before it struck me that I'd just stripped down in front of her without even a second's delay, simply because she suggested it. Clearly, there was nothing I wouldn't do for this woman.

She moved without sloshing any of the water out so that I could lean against the back of the tub and she could lie against me. I may not have taken a bubble bath that I could remember, but I could predict based on how good it felt at the moment with the warm water and feel of her against me that I could see a whole bunch of them in my future, as long as Stephanie was joining me.

I endured one of her signature moans after she settled against me and tried to hold back my full response. Thankfully, she stopped wiggling, which made it a little easier to keep my body from proving how much I liked this.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" she prompted, giving me something to think about other than the feel of her body all slicked up with bubbles.

It took a couple of tries to fully clear my throat enough to answer her. "I think I have a plan for the whole Nick situation and wanted to run it past you to see what you thought of it."

She moved again in order to see my face before asking, "You aren't telling me what to do? You're really asking what I think?"

"Of course," I told her, electing to leave out the part that if she said no, I was going to keep arguing the point until she came around to my way of looking at things.

Making a motion that I should continue, she settled back, ready to listen.

"I want to go pick up Nick and bring him back to the compound," I began. She spun around, as though gearing up to tell me no, but I held up my hands to stop her. "Wait until you hear it all first, okay?"

A nod was the only response I got, so I jumped in to finish explaining my plan before she began talking anyway. "We have a special cabin at the back of the property for this exact kind of thing. It's a two-room shack, really, that's wired so that you can be in one room and see and hear everything that's happening in the other room. This would allow us to bring Nick in – completely unconscious – and when he comes to, he could be securely restrained so that he can't hurt you. Then you could have however long you needed to confront him for what he did to you. If you need help getting information from him, I can have Uncle Guido on standby."

This time, she couldn't help but jump in. "Wait... Why would I need Uncle Guido?"

"Something about Nick threatening RangeMan is bothering you, and the fact that he just appeared out of nowhere is bugging me. I think he's got a beef bigger than just being a controlling, abusive asshole. And if we just eliminate him, it might clear that danger, but he could just be a sign of a bigger threat, and we can't get rid of him until we know the full story. You have great instincts, so I figure you'll probably be able to get it out of him if you have a safe way to talk to him. But if he refuses to cooperate, then Uncle Guido might be able to help. And since you've done something that he considers to be a real gift to him, he would jump at the chance to do this for you."

"How would you get him here?" she asked, not instantly objecting to everything else like I'd thought she might.

"That's a bit trickier, but I want to have Les help me grab him. Between the two of us, we can knock him out and subdue him in a transport van so that he can't move, and then I'll bring him back here alone so that no one from RangeMan is involved."

She was chewing on her bottom lip. I knew that meant she was uncertain about something, and I had to hope it wasn't Lester's involvement. I could do it on my own, but in broad daylight, it would be easier to pull off without raising suspicion if I had someone to help me move him.

"How much does Les know?" she asked.

"He knows that I may or may not need his help this afternoon and that it would be something he couldn't ask for details about and would need to forget about as soon as it was over," I answered, immediately feeling guilty for misleading her. Obviously, I was new to the whole guilt thing, because my mouth instantly opened to correct my deceit. "Look, he knows you and Nick split, and he knows I want to talk to Nick before you can come home. But he doesn't know the whole story. I never told them about how he basically beat you and left you for dead after threatening to take out all of RangeMan if you spilled the beans about what happened."

There was a beat of silence before she laughed a little without really sounding amused. "I guess I shouldn't have asked, because the fact that Nick is still living is proof that you hadn't told anyone. If the guys knew the truth, my guess is that Nick's body would already be buried in an unmarked grave somewhere."

"Consider it self-preservation," I tried to joke. "If the guys found out the whole truth and realized I knew it and hadn't alerted them to what happened so they could have handled it a week ago, then there would be a line extending from the gym door to the street of guys waiting to kick my ass for not watching out for you." A part of me still felt like that should happen.

"But you have been watching out for me," she tried to disagree with how I saw things. "If you'd run off and killed Nick for what he did, then I would have resented you and never trusted you again. Since you held back like I asked and took care of me, I came to trust you must faster and talked to you about Nick and shared the whole story with you. If I hadn't done that, you might not have considered him being a smaller piece of a larger scheme, and I might be in more danger than ever before."

"Does that mean you'll let me bring Les into it to help me capture Nick?" I asked, not wanting to push but feeling the need to strike while she seemed so receptive.

"Could I help you instead?" she wondered, catching me a bit off guard.

"If you want to do that, then I think we need to wait for a few more weeks," I stated as my fingers ran over the scar on her side where my brother had recently pulled out the stitches. "You still have a weight limit for lifting, and something tells me if you have to run, it would hurt like hell. Plus, I'm pretty sure if Nick hit you in front of me, I'd kill him on the spot, so we'd miss the point of getting to the bottom of this. The only way I'll be able to hold back now is if I have him completely incapable of hurting you when you confront him."

"You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?" She seemed to be enjoying my confession.

"Not really," I admitted. "But when you asked and I ran through a quick scenario of what could go wrong, the image of him getting another hit to this spot right here was enough to tell me that would have disastrous results." As I spoke, I placed my hand on her still-healing ribs.

"You're kind of protective, aren't you?" She sounded like she was teasing, but I realized the phrase "kind of" didn't really apply here.

"If you'd asked me a month ago, I would have said no, but since…well, last night, I'm learning that when it comes to you, I have instincts I didn't even know existed. Protective is just the tip of the iceberg of what I am to you," I disclosed.

"Normally, I'd say that kind of thing is smothering and a bad idea around me," she replied, as though measuring her words as she spoke them. "And maybe it's because I'm still healing, but at the moment, I really like the sound of you being protective."

Then she spun around in a move I wouldn't have thought possible and straddled me so that we were face to face. Before the water settled down, she framed my face, forcing me to look at her. Normally, I wouldn't consider looking in her eyes to be a hardship, but the bubbles were quickly dripping off her chest and my brain was flooded with the thought of seeing her wet and naked while sitting across my lap, so it was hard not to look down.

"I like it because you are protecting me without excluding me. You said if I wanted to go with you that we'd need to move it to later and that there's a good chance you'd end up killing Nick right away, but you didn't tell me no," she said, explaining something that might have sounded more logical if my full attention was on her words instead of the bubble parade going down her chest. "You're the first guy to not just immediately count me out because they just wanted to hide me away for my own safety."

I felt the need to be completely honest. "You're giving me too much credit. I would much rather you be out of the way and completely safe, but I also know it's not fair to exclude you from this, so I'm trying to fight against my own wants because you need a chance to see this whole thing through to some kind of end."

"Say what you want," she answered with a smile. "But your actions are saying everything I need to hear right now, and I'm really grateful."

"Really grateful?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow as a challenge and question all at once.

Her hips moved forward against mine, and I realized our minds had meshed perfectly on this.

Forty-five minutes later, my fingers looked like raisins and I was struggling to stand up, more from exhaustion than the slippery nature of wet skin. I had to say that even being somewhat new to the whole emotional disclosure thing, I was pretty sure that Stephanie being grateful was my favorite emotion, and despite my jumbled thoughts, I was trying to come up with ways to stay on her good side enough to have her expressing gratitude to me again – soon.

As I finished pulling my clothes on for the second time that day Stephanie came in and stood at the doorway, watching.

"When will you go?"

"If you're on board with everything, then I'll need to leave in the next half hour to meet with Les and work out the details before we track down Nick."

She looked at the floor, and I realized that she had pulled on a long shirt and snug pants that women sometimes wore to work out in, but her feet were still bare. I loved the way she looked partially pulled together, completely comfortable in my space, and sporting a glow the likes of which I'd never seen on her face before. My ego was particularly fond of the glow since I liked to think it was all my doing that put it there.

Once my internal congratulations on the job of loving my woman being well done was over, I realized she hadn't spoken again, so I moved to stand right in her personal space and cupped her face lightly in the hope that she would look at me without my having to pull her face up. As soon as her deep blue eyes met mine, I asked, "What's wrong?" wondering if this was where she would refuse to let me pick up Nick and we'd have to ruin everything we'd just shared by fighting over what absolutely was going to happen today.

"Please…" she started to plead, but stopped herself.

I didn't want to stick my foot in my mouth by arguing against whatever she might be begging for, so I waited for her to speak once more.

"You'll be careful, won't you?"

"What?" I blurted out, as though understanding English was more than I could manage at the moment.

"Nick is dangerous and strong, and if something happens to you…I couldn't…please…"

She was still struggling to find the right words to explain her concerns, but I could piece together what she meant from the few phrases that had been thrown out. My first reaction was to point out that even though Nick was obviously crazy and strong enough to do some damage to her, he was nothing compared to me, and even less when measured against Les and me together.

Instead of arguing the finer points of how simple this was going to be, I pulled her to me and let the feeling of having someone concerned about my wellbeing wash over me. With all the missions I'd run and tours I'd served, I'd never had someone waiting for me to return. Something about this moment touched me. I'd always thought the idea of someone telling me to be careful would feel like having a second mother nagging me, but seeing how worried Stephanie was prevented any of that from creeping to the surface. Instead, I was struck with a new wave of determination to return to her quickly and in one piece so that she wouldn't have to worry any longer than was necessary.

"Hey," I spoke to get her attention back on me and hopefully out of her head, which was no doubt running scenarios of all the different ways this could go to hell. "I'll be fine. I'll be careful; I'll have Les for backup. Before you have a chance to miss me, I'll be back."

"You can do this," she said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself. She took a deep breath in mid-thought, as though the air itself could settle her resolve. "You are one of the best, and I know you are more than capable. It's not like you guys don't do this on a near daily basis. It's just that...now that we're…well, now that we have each other, I guess I'm just struck by how much it means, and I don't want anything to hurt you – to take you."

"Shhhh," I interrupted when I could see she was starting to get emotional once again. "Trust me, I know exactly what you're saying."

Her head nodded against my chest, acknowledging what I meant.

Then I pulled back abruptly and moved my hands to hold her shoulders in place. "I'm coming back to you. I don't give a shit what Nick tries. He's going down, and I'll be back. Nothing is going to keep me from you. Do you believe that?"

Her eyes were big from the surprise of being held at arm's length and being spoken to in such a forceful way. It took her a couple of seconds to acknowledge my question before she nodded that she believed me.

"Do you trust me to keep this promise?" I pushed, realizing that she was going to need to get used to seeing me walk away from her into dangerous situations on a regular basis, and while I found it kind of sweet right now, over time, this could become a problem.

When I used the word trust, she rolled her shoulders, not trying to break my grip but attempting to square her stance. "Completely," she answered with a steady voice. "I trust you completely."

"Then you have no need to worry," I assured her before bending down enough to place a kiss on her lips to seal this discussion in both our minds. Sure, I might talk a big game about how she needed to rely on her trust in me that I'd be back because I promised to come back, but it was going to be a little harder to put into practice when she was the one walking out of RangeMan to go after a skip and I was the one that had to stay behind and worry about her safety.

She broke our connection and grinned before explaining her sudden turn in emotions. "If you're planning on doing this today, then you need to go. The way you just super-charged that kiss, if you don't leave soon, then you aren't going anywhere."

It was tempting to take her up on that challenge and see exactly what I'd be doing, but something told me she was exactly right, so I didn't push it.

"Go ahead and get dressed. I won't interrupt," she prompted when I stood there running through all the different ways we could keep each other so busy I wouldn't be able to leave the compound today.

I glanced down and saw that I was fully clothed. When I looked up at her, she was giving me one of her expressions that said she had some kind of challenge on the tip of her tongue.

"You're going after Nick like that?"

When I'd seen her dressed up for the party last night, I'd thought she couldn't be any sexier than that. Then in the bath earlier that morning, I'd thought I may have been hasty in that proclamation, but looking at her in this moment, suddenly filled with confidence, a mischievous gleam in her eye and an obvious intent to bait me in some way, I realized there was no limit to the ways Stephanie could turn me on.

Playing along with her question, I glanced at myself once more and verified I was wearing all black, but nothing with the RangeMan logo on it. I'd never put this much thought into what I should wear when picking up someone, and even with the re-check, I couldn't find anything wrong with what I had on. "Yes, I'm going to wear this to get the bastard that hurt you."

Briefly, her face showed surprise at how I'd referred to Nick, but she covered it up quickly before she began to slowly walk around me, trailing her fingertips across my chest, my upper arms, and back as she made the full circle to stand in front of me once more. "You only have on a single gun. Isn't that practically naked for you guys?"

How the hell had I not picked up on what she meant? Then I realized it was my turn to switch the pressure back on her. "Stephanie, I've got the Glock at my waist that you saw, plus a Beretta at my ankle and a switchblade in my pocket. In the van, I've got a sawed-off shotgun, a sniper rifle, a set of throwing stars, and two more hand guns that I'll have access to before we get busy. Except for the time when there's nothing between us, anytime you're around me, there's always at least two guns and a knife accessible."

"What is it about that armory that is so significant?" she half-mumbled in response, as though my description of what it took for me to feel comfortably armed wasn't a new idea to her.

I decided to let it go, figuring it had most likely come from Ranger, and while I understood more about their weird non-relationship thing, I still didn't want to talk about their past any more than I had to. I was secure in my skills and what I could offer Stephanie, but a guy would have to be stupid to not realize that there was no fair way to compete with Ranger. No matter what element of his life you were examining, the guy had his shit together. I didn't really want to give her an opportunity to see how I stacked up against him and where I fell short.

I took a few more minutes to enjoy being around Stephanie and tried to find a way to hide some of the feeling of peace she gave me to so that I could remember why it was so important this mini-mission was successful.

Fifty-eight minutes later, I was standing in the single parking space at the back of Nick's apartment when Santos pulled up behind me. I got out and met him on the back side of our vehicles, bumping his fist with my own when he held out his hand.

I decided to go ahead and get the gratitude out first. "Thanks for doing this, man."

He shrugged his shoulders, like it was no big deal. It was the exact reaction I'd expected because it was precisely what I would have done. "Nothing I wouldn't do for her," he replied, putting me on edge by declaring his support of my woman in no uncertain terms. Before I could get a handle on my sudden surge of jealousy, he spoke once more. "And when this shit is all over, you're going to owe me, so consider yourself on notice."

"Owe you, how?" I needed to get this clarified because being in someone's debt was a notion that made me jumpy. And while I couldn't argue with the principle, I still needed to know what he had in mind.

"You, me, and a case of beer," he explained. "We're going to start tossing them back, and we aren't going to stop until you spill what the hell is going on with Stephanie and you and exactly who the fuck you really are."

That wasn't going to happen. "You'd better have a lot of booze if that's what you're planning," I warned him.

It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to douse me with alcohol in the hope of loosening my tongue. I had a pretty high tolerance anyway, but I was damned good at faking my drinking and watching my partner for the night get drunk enough to pass out. Usually, they woke up too hung over to remember that I'd told them nothing, and because of the man code to never admit defeat, they couldn't really come back to me and ask if I'd spilled anything. I didn't like repaying his service like that, but if he was determined to get the scoop on me, that's all he could hope for.

"I can tell you about me and Stephanie without the beer," I offered, wishing the olive branch might be enough to satisfy him.

He laughed at my statement. "All you'd be doing is confirming what I already know."

"And what is that?" I pressed back.

"You guys are tight and together for good," he answered, before adding, "She called me ten minutes ago."

"And told you what exactly?" I couldn't help but wonder how she had described me to Santos.

"She told me if you came back to her with so much as a scratch on you, she'd kick my ass," he replied, looking slightly worried.

"That's it?" I pushed, not sure how that meant we were together for good.

He chuckled and looked me in the eye to explain. "Man, she's never so much as hinted that it was important one of us stay in one piece. Ranger would go in the wind, faced with impossible odds, and she'd send him off with a hug and instructions not to get shot. But for you, she went out of her way to not only remind me that she wanted you to be safe, but to somehow put some kind of personal responsibility on me for that happening. This is big for her – and you'd better recognize it. That woman loves deep when she lets herself, and the fact that you've gotten in with her means that's it as far as she's concerned. So you need to keep your ass alert so that I don't have to deal with her when she's pissed. There's no way I'm dealing with her temper and letting you get the adrenaline-rush sex. That shit ain't right, so keep yourself in one piece."

I couldn't help it. In the middle of the day, right outside the apartment of the man I planned on killing before the sun went down, I threw my head back and laughed. "All right, man. Don't raise your blood pressure over this. I promise to keep it together, and you can promise to never use Stephanie's name in front of me again in a reference to any kind of sex."

Lester shook his finger in my direction. "Damn it, I knew it. You, the man who never shows a preference for much of anything, is getting worked up and possessive about a woman. It's real for you, too. Beautiful really is off the market."

"She's not meat," I warned him, feeling the market comment had no business in a discussion about Stephanie.

Before we could get any further into the conversation, we heard the sound of Nick's truck turning into the front of his complex, and I knew we had to pull ourselves together in order to be sure we both kept our promises.

We were going to get this guy, I wasn't going to get hurt, and then I was going to find exactly what adrenaline-rush sex was, because since Santos had mentioned it, the idea of experiencing something like that with Stephanie was hard to push out of my mind.


	15. Claiming a Mission

_JE is responsible for the characters below._

_Jenny (JenRar), once again you've worked your beta magic on a chapter. Thank you for all the time you've spent on this story._

**Chapter 15 – Claiming A Mission**

"How tight are you planning on making that cuff, man?" Lester asked as I clicked the handcuffs tighter on my third check that Nick was as secure as physically possible.

I shook my head and looked at the unconscious man in front of me. In many ways, it was almost too easy. Lester had borrowed Ram's tranquilizer gun and brought along a dart loaded with enough drugs to take down Tank for a few hours. Nick was built, but he didn't have near the mass of our second-in-command. It had been nearly too fast to see. I'd banged on the door, Nick had opened it and stepped forward to ask who I was, and Santos had pulled the trigger. By the time I'd focused well, Nick had been on the floor in a crumbled pile.

We'd pulled him back in and done a cursory sweep of his apartment. He had a few phone numbers written down on scraps of paper that I'd swiped to try looking up later, but everything else was clean of clues to tell us if he was just some psycho or if he was a pawn in a much bigger game.

Once we'd gotten him to the van I'd brought from my dad's collection, we'd used the chains that I'd prepped and attached him to the rails in the back. If he somehow managed to fight through the drugs, he wouldn't be able to move anything but his head. That fact probably made Lester look at me strangely when I'd tightened down the restraints once more.

I had to shut my eyes and shake my head to clear the images that were flooding my mind of how horrible Stephanie had looked when I'd gone back to her place and found her dying on her bed. If I had waited much longer to check on her, she might not have survived, and I might have missed knowing what it felt like to have someone really know me and choose to stay by my side. We hadn't exactly used the words in the magic order, but I loved her, and deep inside, I knew that she loved me, too. I'd held back who I was from everyone I met out of stubbornness and fear that once they knew where I came from, they'd judge me as being a criminal of some sort. Of course, she hadn't batted an eye and had not only accepted me, but argued that my father's job didn't mean anything about who I was. She was wrong, of course, but her easy acceptance had me wanting to do something I'd never done voluntarily.

"My father," I spoke while staring at Nick and not looking in Lester's direction. "He's the head of the Pertucci family."

Finally, the silence became too much for me, and I turned to see his face.

"That makes sense. You've got the honor, loyalty, and secrecy thing down. Plus, you know your way around an Italian menu, so you rarely have to settle for pizza like the rest of us Latin Kings do." Then he looked up at the ceiling in the van before glancing back in my direction. "But there's something I can't figure out."

I figured it would now all go to hell in a handbasket. "What's that?"

"I thought all the mob dudes slicked their hair back with greasy shit and only wore dark-colored suits," he replied with a completely straight face. That lasted about five seconds before his face erupted in one of his trademark grins.

"That's only in the movies," I bit back before thinking through my uncles and some of the guys that worked for Pop. "At least, I don't use that kind of shit," I clarified. If I were going to try this honesty thing on for size, it made sense to go all the way. "And I do wear mostly dark-colored clothes, but at RangeMan, we don't have to wear suits very often."

"Is that why you don't need backup for the transport and unload?" he asked, putting together the clues quickly.

"I'm taking him to a secure place my family owns so there's more than enough hands to take care of unpacking him. He'd be dead before he laid a hand on me if he tried something, so there was no reason to bring you any further into this than just to watch my back for the pickup," I explained.

"Are you next in line to the family throne?" he asked, still looking amused.

"If I wanted it, but much to my father's irritation, I've got no interest in taking over his business," I explained, hoping he would believe me.

"Man, that's hard for any guy to tell his dad, but I'm betting in your circumstance, it's even harder." Les seemed to be understanding, and unless I was majorly missing it, he hadn't judged me at all. I was hypersensitive to the subtle signs when people began to look at you differently, and he wasn't showing any of them.

"That's an understatement," I admitted tersely.

"Not that I blame you for slugging off the responsibility," he spoke once more with his jokester smile. "I mean, working around greasy-haired stiffs in ugly suits or getting to see the likes of me isn't really a hard decision now, is it?"

I slugged him in his arm, glad to be able to joke at a time like this. "Don't flatter yourself, Santos. I'd rather look at Stephanie over your ugly mug any day of the week."

"Man, that ain't news. We all feel that way," he admitted, basically taking my good humor away at the thought that every man at RangeMan would be checking out my woman on a daily basis. While I was trying to figure out how to process that, Santos raised his voice to speak once more. "Fuck it all. You hate me, don't you?"

"What the hell are you taking about?" I questioned, uncertain how the conversation took such an abrupt turn.

"Look at your hand," Les commanded, pointing to the fist I'd just used to smack him.

The knuckle on my middle finger had a tiny scratch on it. I had no memory of getting it, so I had to assume I'd either knocked on Nick's door too hard or scraped it on the van when we were tossing him in the back. "Don't worry about it, man," I tried to assure him. "I'll wash my hands before I see her again, and she'll never notice it."

"You have a lot to learn about women in general, but about that woman in particular," he warned me. "She'll notice," he promised. "She'll see it, and then you'll get the sympathy and I'll get the pissed off woman who threatened me if you came back to her injured."

"I'll take care of it," I tried to smooth it over, finding the way Lester seemed to be afraid of Stephanie slightly funny. "I won't let her kick your ass too hard."

"You know, the next time you call me in the middle of the day asking for help all covert and secretive, I'm leaving your ass out to hang," he threatened, climbing out of the van and standing on the sidewalk once more.

"I wouldn't advise that," I countered, following him back into the daylight. "A scratch on a finger is nothing compared to how irritated she'd be if she thought I'd asked you for help and you'd refused to cover my back."

"You know, you were easier to like when you used the mystery man persona that didn't say anything," he spoke up again, acting irritated that I had turned his comment back on him.

"Look," I pushed him once more, wondering why I'd been so quiet all these years; it was loads more fun to get the better of someone than to stay silent. "I saved you the hangover of getting me drunk to tell you who I really was." Then, after realizing what he knew, I suddenly felt exposed. "I don't want to make a thing out of this, but no one knows about my connections, and I'd rather keep it that way. You've been cool, but most people assume because I'm associated with the mob that I'm dirty or that I walk around buying people and shooting the ones who refuse to be bought. I really don't want to have to deal with that kind of shit, you know?"

The blank face that Lester rarely wore settled down, wiping away any trace of his previously smiling expression. "Ain't nobody going to get this from me, but just so you know, the guys at the office would be cool with it. We've all got shit in our closets we don't want out. But you shouldn't have to hide where you came from. Still, I'll keep it close." After a brief pause, he added, "You should have known that was true. I'm a lot of things, but a damn blabbermouth ain't one of them."

I did a quick check of how Lester acted around the office, and while I could picture him telling funny stories, he was usually sharing accounts of things that happened to him, not the secrets of the other guys. I had no reason to doubt him, and by pushing the point, I'd most likely insulted him. He was probably due some kind of apology, but as Stephanie had pointed out, I sucked at saying I was sorry, so he wasn't going to get one from me this time.

"Thanks for this," I offered instead, tilting my head to the back of the van, where Nick was sleeping while attached completely to the side of the vehicle.

"Tell Beautiful I did everything I could to keep you safe," he replied, still sounding nervous about her making a big deal about my knuckle.

"I got your back, man," I told him, bumping fists one final time before breaking apart and going our separate ways.

Double checking that I wasn't being followed, I took the long way back to the compound and pulled to the back of the property to the cabin that was typically considered Uncle Guido's territory. I hadn't even put the van in park before the door to the building opened and Stephanie came running out. She looked worried, which instantly put me on edge, wondering what went wrong in the few hours I'd been gone to have her so worked up.

Meeting her halfway, I found I'd held my breath from the time I saw her coming out of the cabin until the moment she was pressed against me, tightly held in my arms. "You're back," she repeated softly several times, making me think it was more for her benefit than mine.

"Hey," I spoke to get her attention. "I promised I'd come back to you, and I don't break my promises."

"I know," she answered, speaking into my chest without attempting to lift her head away from me. "But the longer you were gone, the more I started to think what I'd do if Nick managed to hurt you. When it was just about getting back at him for hurting me, I wasn't sure I could do it, but when I thought about him hurting you, I could easily picture myself taking him out on my own."

Without even trying, Stephanie was an appealing woman, but when she said things like that, I wondered if I could get away with leaving Nick in the van so that I could take her inside and try to show her how much it meant to me that she wanted to protect me the same way I wanted to watch over her.

"Let's get this over with," Stephanie said, nixing my idea of taking her inside now and pulling back enough to look at me.

I couldn't help but notice the slow once over she gave me, obviously looking to be sure I'd come back in the same condition I'd left in. I took a step back and then turned around to give her a quick view of my front and back sides. Feeling smug that I was fine, as promised, I moved to close the distance between us once more.

However, before I could actually touch her, she exclaimed, "I'm going to kill him."

"What? Who?" At that point, I forced myself to stop talking so that I wouldn't sound like an even bigger idiot.

"It's hard to know where to start," she offered without actually explaining anything at all. "I'll deal with Nick in a minute, but I specifically told Lester Santos to send you back to me in exactly the same condition you left in."

"Um, Stephanie..." I hated to interrupt her when she was on a role, but I had promised Les that I'd clear this up with her. "I'm completely fine."

"We'll talk about how important it is for you to be completely honest with me later," she replied with a glare. "But the blood on your knuckle isn't _completely fine_ in my book."

"You know," I jumped in, not knowing if I was about to make a huge mistake or not but finding it impossible to resist after going back and forth with Santos. "When you're worked up and angry like this, you are really hot."

She did a quick double take, as though she couldn't believe that was my big response to her temper. Her mouth opened, and she pointed her finger directly at my heart and said, "Later, once we've dealt with all of this, I'll show you just how angry and worked up I can get."

"Is that a threat that you're going to get even hotter?" I teased in return, taking a step toward her instead of away from the ranting woman in front of me.

"That depends completely on how you play your cards from now until then," she bit back, sounding pissed, but the slight smile threatening to grow over her lips and the lighter shade of her eyes told me she was having fun.

"Is it time for me to be helpful?" Uncle Guido's voice cut through, preventing me from responding to her obvious challenge.

"You can help me get the body from the back," I told him, suddenly wanting this over as quickly as possible so that I could go back to arguing with Stephanie some more.

"You mean I'm too late?" he pushed, apparently assuming I'd already killed the bastard.

I had to hide the smile at the fact that only in my family would the confession of a dead body bring disappointment that they didn't get to join in the actual killing instead of repulsion over the corpse itself. I opened the back of the door and could immediately tell from the groaning sound reverberating off the metal interior that Nick was beginning to come around.

"I guess not," he corrected himself, before adding, "Either that, or you're way out of practice."

"Shut up and help me get him secured inside," I commanded, surprised at how much I sounded like Pop when I said it.

Ten minutes later, Nick was definitely coming out of the drug-induced fog, and based on his language, he wasn't very happy about it. Uncle Guido proved to be invaluable in securing Nick, moving so quickly, it was hard to reconcile his short, stubby fingers being that nimble.

We left the interrogation room and framed Stephanie on either side on the observation side of the glass.

"How are we playing this?" he asked, looking at me.

While I was debating the best way to approach this safely, Stephanie turned around and spoke. "I'm going in there alone to talk to him. When I'm done, I'll come back out, and you two can figure out what to do next."

Knowing better than to disagree with her, I pulled out an ear piece and microphone I'd swiped from Lester's RangeMan vehicle and held out the receiver for her to put in her ear. She took it from me but was clearly confused about why it was needed.

"My guess is that he'll talk to you easier than either of us, so the longer you are in there with him alone, the more we will probably get. This way, I can pass along any questions we have to you without you having to leave the room."

"You'll have the microphone?" she asked, looking at the small unit in my hand.

I let her watch as I clipped it on the chain I was wearing around my neck. I might deny my family business connections, but there was a piece of me that never completely walked away, because on a silver chain I always wore when the stakes were high, I had a St. Joseph medal with my family's crest on the back side. St. Joseph was the patron saint of fighters, so it seemed to fit who we were. Stephanie, in her usual habit of missing nothing, reached around my hand and pulled the whole chain out, laying it on my T-shirt so that she could look at the medallion.

Completing her inspection, she smiled and simply said, "I like it, but I hadn't noticed it before."

"I only wear it when I'm gearing up for a fight, so it didn't seem to fit around you," I disclosed in an attack of blunt honesty. Uncle Guido cleared his throat before we could get too lost in the moment. "Later," I promised, meaning it in every way she might choose to take it.

"Geez, you two are as bad as being around my brother and his wife," he chided, probably thinking it was some kind of veiled insult.

I thought back to the afternoon when I realized I wanted what Pop and Mom shared and couldn't stop from smiling. He may have meant it as an offense of some sort, but at the moment, I took it as quite the compliment.

"Be careful in there," I couldn't stop myself from saying. "He can't get loose, but you don't want to let him think he's getting to you, either."

She nodded, not appearing to take offense at my instructions. Then she surprised me by turning to Guido and asking, "So how should I handle him?"

Strangely, since I'd made it abundantly clear that I didn't want any part in my father's business, I'd never really paid much attention to how my uncle worked. I knew he always seemed to get the information from whoever Pop sent him after, but I just assumed he went in with his fists as his first approach. It never occurred to me that he might have the ability to finesse out the information he was after.

My uncle stared at Stephanie and then looked at Nick, who was yelling at whoever might be listening that they were going to pay for taking him and threatening that we had no idea who we'd pissed off. After looking at Nick for a few minutes, Uncle Guido smiled and began to advise her. "Go in and sit down across the table from him, but don't look directly at him. Try to look bored and completely uninterested in whatever he might say. He'll start off yelling at you and threating all kinds of things, but don't say the first thing until he stops screaming. Then, as calmly as possible, use a voice slightly softer than usual and thank him for calming down before telling him that the two of you need to have a conversation. Remember, he has no idea where he is or how he got here, so you have all the power. Don't let him think for a second that you believe he is anyone of any merit. Don't talk about anything personal. Just ask simple questions and wait until he answers you. If he clams up, try to wait him out. We'll be able to hear everything, so we can feed you follow up stuff if it seems to be stalling."

"Got it," she replied, nodding along with everything he said. "Thanks for your help," she added, touching one of his calloused hands to show her appreciation. After squaring her shoulders, she turned and walked into the interrogation room with her head held high.

Just as Guido had predicted, the moment the door opened and Nick saw who came through, the expletives started to fly. His voice grew even louder and harder as his face took on a slight purple tint. Stephanie didn't seem to notice and walked slowly and calmly to the empty chair across the table from where Nick was chained and strapped into a metal straight back chair. She turned the seat slightly so that while we had the profile of them both in our sights, I was able to see all of her face, as well.

She looked at the ceiling, occasionally twisted a piece of her hair around her finger, and then examined her fingernails. Finally, Nick seemed to run out of insults and shut up.

"I'm glad you have that out of your system," Stephanie began, still not bothering to look at Nick. "You and I are going to have a civil conversation now."

Fool that he was, Nick decided to spit in her direction before informing her that the only thing he was going to have with her was a meeting of his fist on her face again. She waited him out, unphased by the huge insult of the small puddle of spittle lying on the table between them. He was lucky it hadn't traveled any farther. I was pretty sure if it had hit her, I would have torn the door off its hinges to snap his neck for daring to disrespect her like that.

While she was effectively ignoring the idiot in the room with her, Guido spoke. "She's good at this. Not everybody can handle being talked to like that."

"She shouldn't have to handle it," I replied, mentally beating the shit out of myself for putting her in this position. I should have just killed the bastard, buried the body, and then taken her anger instead of allowing this. I could have beaten out whatever deathbed confession he might have to offer, and she could be spelling out the terms of my restitution right now instead of taking this kind of abuse.

"No, she shouldn't have to, but if you're going to bring this woman into your life, it's good to know she can," he replied, obviously unaffected by all the mental ramblings going on in my head. "Our family isn't normal, and she'll only survive if she has a tough shell to go with her quick mind."

"Women shouldn't have to have tough shells. They should be allowed to be…well, women," I bit back, sounding more like my father with his occasionally old world ideals with nearly every word.

This time, I received laughter as his initial response. "Obviously, I'm a lifelong bachelor, so women aren't my area of expertise. You can take this advice however you want to. But that woman right there isn't somebody you can sit on shelf to be a decoration in your life. If you plan on keeping her, you need to get used to the idea that she's one of those women who can only be a partner at your side. If you want her to be happy, you're going to have to let her get her hands dirty."

How in the hell had my quiet uncle become the psychological master all of a sudden? He must have seen the answer written on my face.

"I'm not saying I know how to talk to women, but I've got years of experience in reading people to know what it will take to break them. If I wanted to break her, I'd put her in a position to feel like she was excluded from anything important and claim it was for her protection. I can guarantee you she'd lash out without thinking and do something rash and stupid, possibly getting herself killed or hurt in the process."

Everything in me wanted to argue that he didn't know anything about Stephanie, but because I had example after example from real life of her doing that exact thing after either Ranger or the cop tried to lock her up for safe keeping, I knew he was right. What I didn't know was what to do about it. This was nearly killing me. Repeating this agony of throwing her into the lion's den wasn't something I could relive on a regular basis.

"The good news," Uncle Guido continued, "is that you're laying the foundation for her to trust you with this kind of stuff. If she trusts that you won't try to shut her out, she'll come to you when there's trouble and let you help her. Without that kind of trust, she'd hide shit from you, and you wouldn't have a clue there was danger until you got the call from the cops."

My body physically reacted as I remembered the number of Bomber alerts I'd gotten and how I couldn't handle the unknown now that she was in my life completely.

Before I could ask my unexpectedly wise uncle how to handle it, her voice came through the speakers, even and measured. "Clearly, Nick, from your current position, I think it's safe to say you didn't know me at all. It's time to stop spouting off things that lingered from the image you had about who I was."

Later, I'd have to ask her if she had heard all of our conversation in her ear, because it seemed as though her response to the dead man walking in front of her was equally relevant to me, as well. I might not have known her very well a couple of weeks ago, but if I wanted her to be happy with me now, then I needed to let go of the image I used to hold and accept that the woman in front of me now was the real person behind the persona I'd known before.

There were no bells or whistles blaring, so I couldn't really call it a magical revelation, but, I could say that watching her stare down the man in front of her was a side of her that I liked. She was strong and capable, and based on how blue her eyes were, she was actually enjoying the action and the control.

My uncle's words echoed in my head that Stephanie was a partner to be by my side. I'd always kept myself isolated, but after getting a glimpse of how much more fun it was to let people in, the idea of having someone I trusted by my side was…nice. With that thought, I touched the throat mic I was wearing and said, "You're doing great, Stephanie." As an afterthought, I added, "I'm proud of you."

Through the glass, I could see her eyes jump to what would appear to be a mirror in front of her. Then, a soft smile came over her face, and although I wasn't sure why those simple words seemed to draw such a beautiful reaction, the thought of her by my side with that expression forced me to realize that _nice_ didn't begin to describe it. Keeping that look on her face was my new mission in life.

Luckily, I'd never failed on a mission.


	16. Dead Dogs Need No Bones

_Janet created Stephanie Plum (and Zip), but Anthony and his family are totally mine. _

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your encouragement and hard work as the beta on this story. It's so much easier to keep typing when I know I'll get to hear from you. _

**Chapter 16 – Dead Dogs Need No Bones**

"She's getting tired," Uncle Guido commented after Stephanie had been in with Nick for forty-five minutes.

So far all, we'd gotten from him was that he had some serious illusions of grandeur and was apparently mentally deficient, as he seemed to think that her current position would change in such a way that he could make Stephanie pay for what she was doing.

Before I could come up with a way to extract her from the room without taking away her power to determine when she was truly finished, Stephanie stood up, looked at her watch, and said, "I'm hungry."

It wasn't really time for a meal, so I was curious about what she was up to. "Wait! Where are you going?" Nick finally sounded slightly panicked at the thought of her leaving him.

"I told you." She didn't even look at him as she spoke. "I'm hungry, and since you've made it abundantly clear you have no interest in speaking to me in a civil way, then I have no interest in listening to you anymore."

"What the hell were you expecting me to say?" he asked, clearly trying to keep her in the room.

"You didn't have a real interest in dating me," she stated as fact, not interested in him confirming what we suspected to be true. "I want to know who put you up to it."

"Why do you think someone put me up to it?" he asked.

She laughed briefly. "Nick, you may think I'm an idiot because I went along with what you were trying to do, but don't confuse my temporary appearance of complacency with ignorance. You were providing something I needed at the moment, and now that moment is over."

"Come on, Hot Stuff..." His voice switched to sound lower and more confident. "I gave you a lot more than a moment of meeting a need."

"That's it, I'm killing him now," I announced as I moved to the door of the interrogation room.

Uncle Guido grabbed my arm, none too gently, and held me back. I could have taken him down, but his intervention gave me a moment to consider what a mistake it would be to interrupt when she was finally getting somewhere, just because the idea of Nick touching Stephanie sexually made me want to rip his head off. Uncle Guido gave me a look, basically asking if he could trust me not to do something stupid, so I nodded and moved back to stand away from the door and watch her once more.

Stephanie looked like she was trying to keep from gagging, which helped me to tamp down any feelings of jealousy. I didn't see him as any sort of a threat to me, but seeing that the idea of Nick touching her was so repulsive that she couldn't stop it from registering on her face was still reassuring.

"Please don't flatter yourself," she finally replied. "I still want something to eat, and comments like that might make me lose my appetite. You had no real interest in me, and I have no interest in you. We can help each other, if we cut through the pretenses and just talk plainly."

When he didn't respond, she pushed again. "Why did you pick me up at the club?"

He seemed to consider her question and then shrugged, as though there was no harm in answering her. "It was a business arrangement. I needed somebody to underwrite a deal, and I got an offer from a local family that they would front me some money and protection if I would do them a favor. They asked me to keep you distracted so that you and the cop wouldn't get back together."

"Why would anybody care if Joe and I were together?" Stephanie asked. I could see from the look on her face that she was really saying it rhetorically, but Nick must have thought the question was directed to him because he piped right up to answer.

"From what I got, they wanted Joe and some chick named Terry to get together, and they thought the only thing keeping them apart was the distraction you created for the cop. If you were out of the picture, they thought he and Terry would hook up for good."

So for the last week, I'd felt guilty for tying Stephanie into the mob, and all the while, she was already there, at least indirectly, without knowing it.

"But Joe had no interest in going back to Terry." Stephanie sat back down and turned to face Nick. "They sent you to distract me, but ultimately, if they were doing it to get them together, it was doomed to fail."

"I know that _now..._" Nick's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Once the cop started dating the school teacher down the street, they told me my services were no longer needed and backed out of our deal. That was the day before you came over and we had our little disagreement."

"What?" Stephanie whispered, and only the fact that the microphone under the table was extra sensitive allowed me to hear it. She cleared her throat and then spoke more fully. "By 'little disagreement,' you mean the day you demanded I quit my job and then you decided instead of speaking rationally, you would use your fists instead?"

"I was just trying to look out for you," he lied to her face. "No man was going step up with you regularly making a public spectacle of yourself, so I was just trying to make it easier on you once I cut you free."

"If that crock of shit were remotely true, then why didn't you welcome the idea of another man being interested in me instead of coming back to my apartment and attempting to threaten me?"

I hadn't considered the possibility that Nick had beat the shit of her in part because he was pissed about me being at her apartment. My presence had caused him to hurt her – the idea of it inflamed me once more, and it wasn't until I felt Uncle Guido's hands around my arms that I realized I had already moved to the door to end Nick.

Nick's voice brought me back to my senses. "Because I got screwed in the whole deal. I distracted you, but they pulled back, and I'd already made plans that I couldn't back out of, so it's put me in a bit of a pinch."

"What plans had you made?" Stephanie was sounding much stronger all of a sudden.

"Business plans," he attempted to evade her.

Stephanie stood up and took two steps toward the door before Nick was yelling that he'd tell her if she'd just come back. Somehow, she wiped the slight smile off her face that had appeared when his voice mimicked a squealing pig basically begging her not to leave him alone.

"Look, I wanted to set up an exclusive resort just south of Point Pleasant," he explained.

"What do you know about resorts?" Stephanie sat down but sounded cautious.

"Not much, but I know a lot about gambling and prostitution," he replied, sounding too cocky for his own good.

"And how was that knowledge base going to serve you at an exclusive resort?" she pushed, leaning forward in what appeared to be the first indication of any real interest on her part.

Nick smiled at her warmer body language and began talking, as though all he needed was a willing audience and he would gladly give up any secret he had. "Look, there's a lot of money to be had by setting up a place where these rich guys can come and have high stakes poker games. Then, after they play for a few hours at night, if they can go back to their rooms and have an attendant come and service their needs, there's even more money to be made. A buddy of mine from way back set up a place like that in Michigan, and he's ready to expand. I suggested Point Pleasant, and after looking into it, he thought it was perfect. The only problem is there is some kind of mob family that controls most of the casinos and activity in the area, so I needed to get in with another family in order to have someone's protection while I was getting set up. Then, after I made it big, I could turn my sights on growing south and eventually pushing this other family down so that I could control this kind of thing in Jersey."

"And you think that was going to happen quickly?" She sounded shocked at his stupidity.

"Maybe a year or two, but yeah, once the word got about what I was offering, a traditional casino wouldn't work for the high rollers," Nick offered before putting the last nail in his coffin. "Word is this Pertucci family doesn't have an heir to speak of so it's ripe for pushing out anyway. The old ways are dying, so getting rid of an out-of-date boss isn't as hard as it used to be."

"And what makes you think you've got the power to do something like that?" She was nearly smiling now, and I stopped listening briefly to appreciate how attractive she was.

"I didn't have any trouble showing you how powerful I was at your apartment," he bragged.

Stephanie's smile shifted to outright laughter. "That's right... You hit me a few times, made a huge mess, and then thought you had left me for dead. Except that's not what really happened, because here I am, completely fine, and there you are, buckled into a chair. I'm not really seeing the power at the moment."

His armor started to crack a little, as though he hadn't thought of things the way she'd just explained them. "Who are you?"

Stephanie tilted her head and looked directly at the mirror once more. It seemed like she was asking me to come in, so I decided to take a chance and act on it. After telling Guido what I was doing, I walked into the interrogation room, slowly closed the door behind myself, and then moved to stand behind her at a parade rest with my hands clasped in front of me. It was the generic stance of muscle everywhere, so I hoped he'd recognize it for what it was.

After I stilled, she spoke. "Who I am is of no concern to you. All you need to know is that you hurt the wrong person when you decided to take out the frustrations of your business deal going bust. And on top of it, you decided to open up to the wrong person about your plan to take down the Pertucci family."

"Your last name is Plum," Nick stated, as though that were somehow relevant.

There were a few tense seconds of silence when I wasn't sure what she was thinking. Then, without another word, she stood up, turned around, and looked me in the eye and winked. One would think after all the time she'd spent in this small room, face to face with the man that nearly killed her, she might be about to fall apart, but that single action made me respect her internal strength all the more.

"My last name _is_ Plum," she responded to him without looking away from me. "For now, at least."

"What are you thinking of changing it to?" Nick asked, sounding suspicious.

"Well, if things keep moving like they are, it might be Pertucci sometime in the future," she replied, still holding the eye contact with me.

Five years ago, I was part of a small team that was captured in the jungle in Columbia. Ranger had split off from our group and wasn't taken with the rest of us. I'd been beaten, tortured, and subjected to things I'd prefer to never think of again. I had been pulled out for another session where they attempted to intimidate out who I was working for, when I saw movement behind my captors. Relief flooded through my system, knowing that Ranger had come back for us and wouldn't leave until we were free. Even knowing my life had been saved and I was literally only seconds away from freedom, I was controlled enough to school my features and keep the same blank expression on my face. But the moment Stephanie implied she might marry me in the future, I had no ability to stop the slight smile from appearing on my face. She moved to stand inches from me and leaned up to place a soft kiss on my cheek.

"I'm holding you to that," I warned her when she was close enough to hear my whisper.

"Good," she replied, somehow creating the small place where only the two of us existed.

My mind could track the fact there was a threat across the room from us, but since I knew his power to hurt us had been removed, I could easily block his presence and focus only on the woman who had just single-handedly turned my world upside down.

"Hello!" Nick foolishly interrupted our moment by announcing his presence. "Were the two of you hoping to loosen my tongue by making out in front of me in the hope I'd talk?"

Stephanie took a slight step back and then spoke louder, obviously for Nick's benefit. "Don't drag this out," she instructed. "I was hoping we could go celebrate, and I know you won't leave until the trash has been taken out."

Before I could answer that I planned on killing him and leaving the body for Guido to deal with, the door to the room opened once more and Pop walked in. Ignoring the man tied to the chair, he walked over to us and placed a kiss on both of our cheeks. "You've made me a very happy man today," he boasted.

I rolled my eyes, blaming it on Stephanie's influence. "We've got a bit of a situation," I reminded him, inclining my head to Nick's direction, not sure what my uncle had told Pop already.

"Nonsense." Pop waved it off. "This will be all cleaned up before your mother takes her chicken out of the oven."

"Mom cooked?" I asked, uncertain why I was so surprised about her fixing my favorite meal.

"Yes, my boy, and from the sound of it, her efforts were timed perfectly, as our dinner tonight will be a true celebration," Pop told us.

Nick slipped back into his idiot tendencies by reminding us of his presence once again. "Hello!"

"Didn't anyone teach you not to interrupt a conversation that didn't include you?" Pop asked.

"Apparently not," he bit back cockily.

"Watch your mouth," I warned him, already itching to snap his neck for what he'd done to my woman. Hearing him disrespect my father only added to my anger.

Pop lifted his hand to stop me from continuing. "It is no matter, as the lesson is too late at this point."

"This old dog doesn't need any new tricks," Nick boasted.

That made Pop laugh. "Quite true. Dead dogs need no bones."

"Wait..." Nick seemed to realize exactly the position he was in. "I don't have a beef with you. I might have roughed up the chick a little, but I didn't kill her."

Pop stood up and shook his head. "Because I believe if I'm going to order someone's death that I should be man enough to let them face their judge and executioner, I should introduce myself. I am Salvatore Pertucci, otherwise known as the head of the Pertucci family. I believe you just announced that you were planning to push me out of power and trying to take over my interests. I would have killed you for daring to lay a finger on the woman my family considers its own. But on top of everything else you've confessed to, you will not live to see another day."

Then Pop turned, somehow managing to ignore the man strapped in a chair, yelling obscenities and threatening that we'd never get away with hurting him. Pop looked at Stephanie and me in turn. "You two kids get out of here and let me handle this since it's crossed over into my business. I'm on the clock, but I believe the two of you are technically still on some kind of vacation, yes?"

I put my hand at Stephanie's back, not trying to push her out, but to make her aware that I'd follow her anywhere she wanted to go. I had brought Nick here so that she could have her say, and I didn't want her to leave the room until she had finished.

Without speaking, she moved closer to my father and leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," she spoke softly and then reached back to take my hand and led me from the room.

"You can thank me by telling my wife about the whole name change conversation over dinner," Pop teased as we walked out.

When we passed Uncle Guido, he smiled at me and then dipped his head as a sign of respect in Stephanie's direction. I waited until we were a few steps from the cabin before I stopped moving and tugged on her hand to get her to turn to me.

"I'm not sure which way to go now," she explained, looking both ways from the end of the driveway.

"Which way do you want to go?" I asked, unsure if we were really talking geography at the moment.

"Whichever direction you're heading," she answered, puffing up my chest with a little more pride.

I pulled her into my arms, wondering how she could stand so strong in front of me after what had just happened. It only took a few seconds before the adrenaline crash hit her and I could feel her beginning to shake. "Shhh," I attempted to soothe. "I've got you, and he'll never hurt you again."

She shook her head no, but I couldn't tell if she was disagreeing with me or trying to tell me I was wrong about my assumption of what had her upset. After a few seconds, she pulled back and said, "Nick wanted to hurt your dad."

"He thought he did," I agreed. "But I think it was just that he had no idea what he was up against."

"You mean, your family," she wondered.

"No," I corrected her. "You."

With that, I took her hand in mine and pulled, indicating which way we should move. It would take a while because the property was that big, but something told me a walk back to the main house would help her to work through everything she'd heard.

While we walked, we talked, which was second nature to Stephanie but still a new experience for me. Along the way, she thanked me for leaving with her and letting my dad finish things with Nick. It was like she understood that he had to go, but she hated the idea of it being because he'd hurt her. Since she knew Pop was dealing with him based on his confession of wanting to take over the Pertucci family interests, there was no guilt on her head for causing his death or for the circumstances forcing me to be the one to do it. We both were able to walk away – literally – and know it was coming to the right conclusion without either of us having to force it there.

One mile and forty minutes later, we made it to the back of the main house. "Do you want to go in, or should I ask Tallia to bring us both something to drink and we can have it on the porch before dinner?"

"Who's Tallia?" Stephanie asked, looking around for a new face.

"She works with Maria in the house but concentrates most of her efforts in the kitchen," I explained.

"Sometimes I forget how well-to-do you are," she admitted, looking a little embarrassed.

"It's my family's money, not mine," I corrected her, not wanting this to be a sticking point between us. "I've done really well for myself in my own right, but I can't compete with the scale of my parents."

When Tallia appeared with two glasses of wine, Stephanie seemed surprised. "You get used to always having someone listening," I told her.

"I'm not sure that's true," she challenged.

"Does it bother you?" I wondered, suddenly feeling the security in what we were building fall out from under me.

Her eyes narrowed, and I knew she was fully considering my question. "Not in limited doses. I think if I lived here all the time, I'd have to get used to it or figure out a way to have some actual private time, but since I'm really only a guest here, it's not too much."

"What if I wanted you to be more than just a guest here?" I pushed.

"Well, technically, you're a guest here too since you've moved out on your own," she pointed out, giving me hope that I wasn't so far off in my guess of where we might be heading.

"Neither of you are guests," Pop spoke from behind us, getting the slip on me, which was embarrassing on so many different levels. "You're family," he clarified, "which means you've always got a place to call home, even if you choose to live somewhere else."

"Does that work for you?" I asked her.

She took a sip of her drink and then looked at the glass with a smile. "Yeah, I think it definitely works for me," she replied, before adding, "as long as you're with me."

"Great," Pop jumped in once more. "So when is the big day?"

We both turned to him at the same time. "I haven't actually asked her anything yet."

"Oh..." He seemed more amused than put off. "Then I'll give you a little privacy so you can get on that before dinner."

When the door shut behind him, Stephanie turned to me and said, "I totally get why you want to stay connected to your family, but why you needed a life apart, as well."

She summed up the seemingly opposing desires that I had struggled to come to terms with all my life. "That says it pretty well."

We each took a sip of our wine, and I took the pause in conversation to think back over the day. Only Stephanie could go into a room with a guy we planned to kill because he'd abused her. Then, after only an hour, she had uncovered his weak connection to a rival family and then gotten to the heart of his plan, which was to somehow overthrow my father. I may not want the reigns of the family business, but I knew enough to recognize that someone really needed to control the people battling for control and my father was, at the very least, just in how he handled the affairs around him.

Life seemed to happen around Stephanie in an alarming way. I'd spent so long trying to remove myself from the family's business that I'd all but pulled myself out of the good parts of life, too. The unexpected ups and downs that most people said made it worth living hadn't been part of my existence in far too long, as I'd tried to be easily forgettable and distanced from my family. In the short time we'd been thrown together, she'd pulled me out of my shell around her and gotten me more involved with my father's business than I'd ever allowed, and somehow, it seemed to fit.

Usually, I hated having my hand pushed in any direction, but suddenly, I saw the wisdom in what he was suggesting. "I'm hard to live with," I blurted out with no prelude to prepare her.

She smiled a little, seeming amused at my awkward start to a relationship. "So am I."

"I'm not really talkative," I added, not really selling myself very well.

"I talk enough for two people," she rebutted, pointing out what some people might call her own failing.

"I like to take control," I warned her.

"I hate having control taken away from me," she countered with what might have sounded like a warning of her own.

"I'm particular about security," I pointed out.

"I rarely think about it, but I like to feel safe," she conceded.

"You'd have to carry a loaded gun and know how to use it," I nearly demanded.

"You'll have to learn to close a phone conversation with goodbye instead of just hanging up on me," she responded.

"My family is going to demand we come down and spend time with them," I reminded her, watching as my father paced in front of the window to the sitting room at the back of the house.

"Sunday dinners at my parents' house are the things legends are made of, and you'll have to go – at least to some," she threatened in return.

"If somebody hurts you, I'll hunt them down and teach them a lesson," I warned.

"If somebody hurts you, I'll do the same thing," she promised, turning it back on me.

"If someone were listening to us, it would sound like we disagree on most everything," I admitted, wondering if I was crazy to be considering what I was thinking about.

"If they were listening, it would be their own fault for butting into a conversation that didn't concern them. It's not disagreeing if you're just spelling out your expectations up front. As far as I'm concerned, we're setting the foundation so that we both know what to anticipate. Nothing you've said has surprised me, and I'm betting you feel the same way," she reasoned in return.

"So we agree on everything?" I pushed.

"Everything that matters," she concurred with a grin.

"This is crazy," I admitted, smiling back at her.

"Welcome to my life," she teased, taking a step toward me.

"Would you like to be a part of mine?" I asked, feeling like it still wasn't the question I wanted to ask.

When she nodded, I found the courage to get a little more specific about what I wanted. "Would you like to share my life by my side?"

A second nod of agreement from Stephanie brought one final question. "Would you share my life by my side as my wife?"


	17. No Loose Ends

_JE created the characters below._

_Jenny (JenRar) there are no words to properly thank you for the work you put in as the beta on this story. _

**Chapter 17 – No Loose Ends**

We walked in the house hand in hand, having abandoned our wine on the tables on the back porch. As soon as we came in, my father came right up to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Why didn't you—" he glanced at Stephanie and then back at me to finish his question cryptically "—you know."

Stephanie seemed completely lost, so I was forced to answer because I knew Pop wouldn't let it go, and then she'd ask me what he was talking about. "I think I just did."

"Son, I know I wasn't always around to teach you everything a boy needs to learn, but this isn't something you have to wonder about. Either you have a future bride, or you don't."

"Oh, he definitely has one," Stephanie jumped in, seeming to be amused by my father's take on proposals.

Without my being aware that she'd entered the room, my mother managed to sneak up behind me. It wasn't until I felt her hand make contact – hard – on the back of my head that I realized she was listening in. "You didn't get down on one knee," she offered as an explanation for her assault on my skull.

"No," Stephanie defended me. "He stayed by my side, making me his equal. It's exactly what I wanted."

Then, my father's meaty hand repeated the stroke of his wife. "Where's the ring? Can't you afford something to show the world she's yours?"

This time, I lifted my free hand to rub the back of my head. I did it partially to be sure everything was okay back there because my father packed a lot more power in his reprimand, but I also did it to make it harder for another attack.

"I don't wear much jewelry," Stephanie jumped in. "I said yes to spending my life with Anthony. I didn't need a bauble to make it more official."

"But the_ bauble_ is something that shows other people that you've found someone worthy of you," Mom explained, seeming pained by the sight of Stephanie's bare ring finger.

"No, a big ring would be evidence that I approved of his money, but that's not why I'm going to marry him," Stephanie tried to tell them. "Most days back home, I wouldn't be able to wear a fancy ring, so it would spend more time in a box than on my finger."

"So you won't wear any kind of jewelry to prove you're married?" Pop asked, confused.

"I'll proudly wear a wedding band," Stephanie corrected, lifting her left hand to show where it would be. "A wide, smooth, gold band would prove to everyone that I am very proud of the man I am married to."

"But a diamond is tradition," Mom complained, whining the last word slightly.

Pop took mercy on me and drew my mother to his side. "I think this is one of those cases where we're being invited to celebrate with them and trust that they are happy and working things out in a way that makes _them_ happy."

Mom nodded but grabbed Stephanie's hand before giving up completely. "So you'll never wear a diamond? Or maybe a sapphire to bring out your eyes?"

"Never is a long time," my new fiancé replied. "On a daily basis, no, but every woman likes to get dressed up, and something sparkly might look nice then."

Satisfied that Stephanie would eventually get something large and gaudy, she let go of her hand. "You have five minutes until dinner. Salvatore," she called out to my father. "I trust there will be some champagne to toast this good news with when we sit down."

"Of course, dear," he replied with a grin.

I never used to understand why Pop would grin when it seemed as though my mother was getting on him, but now I could begin to understand why. I was pretty sure if Stephanie acted like that to me, it would amuse me enough to smile, too.

When we were alone once more, I pulled her into my arms, wishing I had a way to tell her how happy she'd made me. I refused to ramble, which I was positive I would do if I opened my mouth, so I fell back into my old habit of simply being silent.

As I ran back through everything we'd said outside and to my parents, her comment to my mother hit me. "So, you will let me give you an engagement right, right, won't you?"

She nodded but didn't speak.

"I know you don't want to wear it chasing skips, but there is a ring I'd like to give you. It's small…" As I remembered the ring upstairs in the box on top of my dresser, I wondered if it would be insulting to offer her such a token.

"Tell me about it," Stephanie suggested, staying as close to me as she could be.

"It was my grandmother's ring," I began, picturing it on the old woman's hand when she would tell me about my grandfather. "She gave it to me right after I finished my basic training and told me to put it away and give it to the woman that would one day come to love me. My grandfather wasn't a rich man, so he couldn't afford a large ring, but he still wanted her to have something that would be a sign of how he felt. It took some time, but he found a jeweler that would work with him. For six months, my grandfather came to the store every day after he finished his real job and worked in the back, building a new room to double the size of the store. With his bare hands, he built a new store, letting the hours of labor count toward the cost of the ring. Finally, the jeweler had the extra space he needed, and my grandfather had a ring to give his bride-to-be that he'd earned with his hands and sweat. He told her that every time she looked at the diamond, he wanted her to remember that there was nothing he wouldn't do to provide for her, and that the ring she wore on her finger would last forever as a symbol to their children and grandchildren of the love our family is based on. It's a simple diamond, but it would mean a lot to me if you would consider wearing it – at least until we can find something that you might want to use as your official engagement ring."

This time, she pulled back enough to look at me and then shook her head no. My heart stopped beating – sure, I was still alive, but I was convinced my heart wasn't working anymore. This had to have been the shortest engagement in the history of the world, and I was clueless what I'd done to ruin it.

"I don't want to find something else as an official engagement ring. After hearing that story, I want to wear that ring until the day comes when it makes sense to let someone else have it to begin their own family with," she explained, not only giving me the ability to draw in a breath once more, but flooding me with images of us surrounded by my family holding a baby in front of a font for a baptism.

"I can't believe I've really only known you a week and a half," I blurted out in what Stephanie was probably coming to think of as my abrupt communication style.

"What are you talking about?" she pulled back to ask. "I've known you for three years at RangeMan."

"No, you worked with a guy named Zip at RangeMan," I corrected her, explaining that most of the time she'd been around me, she had known me as someone else entirely.

"Bullshit," she crassly interrupted. "Everything I knew about you then is still true now. You are quiet, you assess every situation thoroughly before moving in, you are loyal to the end, you are trustworthy, and you protect what's important to you. What in that assessment from what I knew to be you at RangeMan is somehow not true anymore?"

"None of it," I had to agree only in part. "But I deceived you about the rest of who I was."

"No, you protected your family and yourself by not broadcasting your past. It's not like you lied when people asked you about who you are," she explained. "It's no different than all the guys at the office calling me Bomber, thinking that I enjoy it when they take over my life in the name of keeping me safe and then laugh about all my misadventures trying to bring in skips. I don't correct them so that they get to know the real me, but that doesn't mean I'm living a complete lie, either."

I opened my mouth to disagree with her, but before I could speak, she prompted, "Weren't you on your way to get a family keepsake so that when we sit down to dinner, your poor mother can relax that we are really engaged?"

My eyes cut to the stairs and then back to Stephanie, suddenly torn with indecision. Now that we'd spoken of it, I wanted to give her the ring, but I didn't like the idea of being away from her. Of course, confessing to that would make me sound like a pansy of the highest possible degree, so I forced myself to move.

Fortunately, she had the ability to figure out what I needed, because she grabbed my hand and pulled me to the elevator instead of the stairs. "Come on, I want to see where you've stashed it so that I can sneak a peek to see if there are any other treasures hidden there."

I did a quick mental inventory of anything she might find interesting and decided that she was most likely about to be disappointed. When we got to our suite, I led her into the bedroom and then moved to the chest of drawers in the corner, pulling open the second from the bottom drawer. There, under some shirts I'd never worn, was a small box. I pulled it out and brought it over to the bed so that Stephanie could see what I was unpacking. Her excitement to see what was in the little wooden box was palpable, which I found amusing. I pulled the lid back slowly, just toying with her, and then grinned when she bent slightly and angled her head to see in before I got the lid up enough to give her a clear view.

Inside the container I hadn't opened in more than a year was a collection of smaller boxes. At the right top corner was the well-worn velvet box that contained the ring I had spoken of. I took it out and spun it to face Stephanie before slowly raising the lid. Feeling the gravity of what I was about to give to the woman in front of me, I found myself sliding off the edge of the bed where I'd sat down and knelt on the floor in front of Stephanie to ask, "Stephanie, you made me so happy tonight when you agreed to be my wife." I figured that technically, we were already engaged, so I didn't need to replay it just to satisfy a tradition. But there was still a part of me that had been influenced enough by my father that felt this moment needed to be special in some way. "On top of that honor, will you accept this ring as a sign of how I feel about you? Generations before us used this as a reminder of the permanence of their vows, and I believe it will be the same for us. I'm not usually a man of many words, but I will spend the rest of my life showing you what I can't find a way to say."

A single tear worked its way from her eye to make the long drip down her cheek to fall from sight. "Yes, Anthony." She took a deep breath before speaking with a firmer voice. "Yes, I'll wear this ring, and I'll marry you, and I'll do everything I can to hear what you're saying when you can't tell me with words."

Hearing more than I'd ever thought I would, I pulled the ring out, letting the box fall on the bed, and then slid the diamond over the knuckle of the fourth finger on her left hand. Shockingly, it was a perfect fit, which only proved that she was the woman fate meant to wear that ring. Before I released her hand, I bent down and placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles.

With my face where she could not easily see me, I stayed in that position, overwhelmed with what we'd just agreed to. How did so much change so quickly? How did I go from the most isolated person I knew to a guy with a fiancé, a family ready to pop open a bottle of bubbly to celebrate, and a team at home eager for me to return? Admittedly, they were eager for me to come back so that they could see Stephanie, not me, but having risked opening up a little with Santos, I wasn't as worried about keeping my removed persona when we got to Trenton.

Proving that she understood me better than anyone else, Stephanie leaned over me and used her free hand to rub my back softly, not rushing me to pull myself together but giving me a moment to absorb what just happened. After a couple of minutes passed, she began to speak quietly, assuring me that she understood how I felt. It didn't seem possible that was true, because even I didn't know how I felt, but then she proved me wrong once more by basically quoting to me all the thoughts that were flying through my head, making it sound as though she were feeling the same things. I was finally able to get control of myself enough that I felt I could face her without embarrassing myself.

Still kneeling, I straightened my back so that we were nearly eye to eye, with her seated on the end of the bed. "Do you really think you'll be happy with me?"

"I'm already happy with you," she pointed out, setting the record straight that happiness wasn't something that she hoped to achieve in the future...she was already there.

"There's so much I need to learn from you," I realized aloud.

"There's a lot I need to learn from you, too," she conceded.

"What?" It wasn't that I wanted my ego stroked; I was just at a loss regarding what she might need to learn that I could guide her in.

"I believe you pointed out I should spend a little time in at the range, and I hoped that meant you would show me what to do," she began, making me smile at the idea of showing her how to use her gun. "Then there's the whole security thing, and I'm guessing you're going to want to have me take a few more precautions to be safe."

Thank God I was kneeling because the idea of being apart from Stephanie and knowing she was in danger where I couldn't get to her made the edges of my vision go fuzzy. It was the kind of reaction Bobby usually made us put our head between our knees and take deep breaths to get over. "You're going to have to teach me how to protect you without smothering you."

She shot down my only hope of getting it right off the bat. "That one we'll have to learn together."

"Were you two planning on coming to dinner, or did you think we'd wait on you indefinitely," Mom spoke, snapping us out of own little world. "If my chicken is dry because you two lost track of time, I'm not going to be happy."

As soon as Mom left, Stephanie burst out laughing – big, loud, side-splitting cracks of laughter. She had her hand on her side, mindful of her incision, to counter the discomfort I knew her reaction was causing, but it didn't seem to slow her down any. Once she pulled herself together enough to speak clearly, she asked, "Have you ever caused her to dry out a roast?"

I didn't get to answer before she was off on a new round of giggles. Listening to the sound and seeing her face, literally glowing, proved that, like her, I was already happy. We had a lot to learn and a lot to figure out – I was no fool that the future would be simple – but I knew that we'd do it together, and that pushed away the fears that that had been gripping me earlier.

After sleeping in much later than I could remember, I forced myself to get up and put in a modified workout in the spare room of my suite. I was a few miles into a run when Stephanie opened the door and stumbled in. Her hair was totally out of control, the shirt she was wearing was mine – which meant it was big enough to hang on her, going down to her thighs – and her eyes were slightly squinted, as though getting them completely open was out of the question at the moment. She was absolutely beautiful, and I realized that no one else would ever get to see her like this. My eyes moved to her finger, and I got a warm sensation at seeing the ring I'd placed there last night still in its place. It was small and unassuming, but every time I saw it or felt it against me, I felt more connected to her and more committed to our future. I had screwed up a lot of things in my life, but this – our marriage – I was determined to get right.

I shut down the treadmill and walked over to stand in front of her, thrilled when she rested her head against me, not the least bit put off by my sweaty condition. "What are you doing up?" I asked, figuring based on how she hadn't managed to fully wake up, she obviously wished she were still in bed.

"Woke up, and you were gone," she confessed, rubbing her cheek against me, trying to find just the right spot before settling down again.

"If I go too long without working out, I get jumpy, so when I woke up, I figured it was a good time to fit in some exercise," I explained, not finding it difficult at all to share with her anymore. "After I'm done, I'd planned on going down to see Pop. Do you want to come with me?"

"That depends on how much longer you were planning on working out," she spoke, still pressed against my bare chest.

I couldn't help but laugh and then wonder if I stood still and didn't talk if she would go back to sleep standing up. "I need an hour to finish up here and shower before I could go down."

"Can I meet you there?" she mumbled, sounding sleepier by the moment.

Without warning, I lifted her into my arms and carried her back to the bedroom. After ensuring she was comfortable, I placed a kiss on her forehead and told her, "Sleep some more, Stephanie. You're exhausted, and there's no reason at all for you to push yourself. Technically, you're still recovering, so try to rest a bit."

"M'kay," she replied as her eyes fluttered shut. In a matter of moments, she was completely asleep.

I indulged myself by watching her for a few moments and then forced myself back to the spare room to finish my workout. It was first time I could ever remember running with a ridiculous grin on my face. Hopefully I could beat that habit before I got back to RangeMan.

Exactly sixty minutes later, I was knocking on Pop's door and then walking in. He motioned for me to come in and sit while he quickly rushed off the phone before joining me on the sofa.

He looked at me for a few seconds before asking, "When are you leaving?"

"This afternoon, if Stephanie's okay with it," I answered.

"You're smart to qualify it that way," he replied, appearing to be amused that I deferred to the sleeping woman upstairs as the final decision maker. "Does she have her own priest, or shall I call ours to make the wedding arrangements?"

I grimaced, realizing there was something they didn't know about my future bride. "We're not getting married in the church." I hoped I could get away with that response, but down deep, I knew there was no chance.

"Why not?" Pop seemed more horrified than Mom was over Stephanie not having a big diamond to show around.

"She's divorced," I confessed, figuring Pop would know it all eventually anyway.

"Not a widow?" he followed up, basically asking if the man who let Stephanie get away deserved to live.

Now that I was faced with the question directly, I realized I hadn't heard the whole story from her and I should probably find out exactly why she and the attorney had split, if there was more to it than just the infidelity that was made public during their messy divorce.

"No, she's not a widow," I assured him. "But she's also not a big fan of being the center of attention. Based on our conversations, I think she was hoping for something simple, small and quiet."

"That certainly complicates things," Pop informed me, lost in his thoughts.

"How?" I wondered. "Scaling it down should make it simpler."

"You'd think so," he seemed to understand what I meant. "But your mother was hoping for a chance to plan a service at Sacred Heart and then come back here for the reception with the whole family."

"The whole family could be four hundred people," I nearly yelled. "There's no way I can push all that on Stephanie."

He seemed lost in thought for a period and then got a gleam in his eye that I knew meant he had an idea. "How about you two take care of the ceremony itself, but you allow us to throw a party for you afterward with just the immediate family?"

"_Immediate family,_" I repeated, figuring even if he included all the uncles and their wives, that would still be less than sixty people. "I could probably sell Stephanie on something like that."

"Great." He clapped his hand on his knee, as though banging a gavel and sentencing me to the party. "It will appease your mother, which will keep me out of the doghouse, too."

Hesitantly, I changed the subject. "So, the guy I brought in yesterday..."

"That has been taken care of." Pop waved his hand, as though it didn't need any further discussion.

Usually, I would agree with him, but in case Stephanie ever asked, I needed to know what to tell her. Plus, if the guys ever realized what Nick had done to her, I needed to be able to assure them Nick had been dealt with in a manner of which they would approve.

"How, exactly, was he taken care of?" I pushed.

Pop sized me up for a moment and then asked, "Are you sure you wish to have this information? You usually want to be able to distance yourself from my business dealings."

"This is Stephanie we're talking about," I corrected him. "There is no detail that I need withheld from me when it concerns her safety."

"She is safe," Pop replied evenly. "You have my word."

"Normally, that would be good enough, but I need more than that in this case. I have to know what happened to Nick after we left and if he's still breathing," I clarified, unable to let this go.

"Believe me, I understand," Pop replied, pausing as though considering how much to tell me. Eventually, he seemed to come to a decision as he blurted out very quickly, "After you left, I had Guido spend some one-on-one time with him to be sure we had the full scope of his involvement with other families and his plans to try to bring me down. Ultimately, he was never a real threat, as he would have set up a place that criminals would have flocked to and run it in such a way that the police would have shut him down for multiple violations. However, the fact that he was brought in to keep your fiancé occupied was troubling, so I will have to find out from my associates in Trenton exactly where things stand there. After Guido finished his discussion, he was taken to an area called the Pines and disposed of in such a way that he will never be found or identified."

"Thank you." I felt that I owed him for the details and for handling Nick, as well.

He nodded at me and looked me in the eye. "You are my son. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"But this was for Stephanie," I pointed out.

"She is the other half of you, is she not?" he clarified, proving he understood exactly how I felt for that woman. "Why did you change your mind and allow me to handle this for you?" he asked when I didn't respond to his comment.

That was a good question and one I needed to get a handle on in case the guys back home asked. "She needed me beside her, and she didn't want me to be the one to take his life. I was there face to face with him to admit I played a role in his ultimate demise, but her wishes were more important than my need to kill him." I paused for a moment and added, "Which is surprising because I _really_ wanted to kill him."

Pop shocked me by laughing. "You are so much more like me than you will ever admit to."

"But in the end, I didn't take his life," I pointed out, believing I was contradicting my father.

"Neither did I," he rebutted. "I have ordered the death of many people, to their face whenever possible so I could never be accused of hiding from the ugly side of this business. But I don't pull the trigger – at least, not in a whole lot of years."

"Why not?" I wondered, unaccustomed to hearing Pop talk about how he ran the family.

"When I was young, I was involved in a dispute which quickly got out of control, and I acted…hastily, which resulted in a man losing his life. Over the following weeks, I reran the situation over and over, and while I agreed the outcome was the right one, I didn't like the way it happened in the heat of the moment. I didn't honor his life by paying it the respect of telling him why he was being put down, and I let emotion rather than clear thinking rule. I decided then I would never do that again and would always wait to decide someone's fate until I was in control of my emotions. Then I would decide what would happen and see that it was done, but I have not done the act itself."

"How do you know your demands are followed?" I pushed.

He laughed without much humor before telling me, "I have my ways. Sometimes, I watch to be sure it is finished. Occasionally, I will ask for a specific souvenir that wouldn't be possible if the person were living. But usually, I demand the body be dumped in a way that it would be discovered so there would be press coverage as proof. Make no mistake..." He spoke quietly now, and I knew what he was about to say was important. "I never take a life carelessly and without fully considering what I'm doing. And once I give the order, I always follow through to be sure my directions were followed perfectly. I never leave loose ends."

That was a phrase I'd heard many times growing up, so I accepted his words easily. "Thank you," I repeated.

This time, he merely waved off my appreciation. "Now that you've sorted this and you've come face to face with the reality of part of my world, will you stay away?"

"Not because of this," I replied, not fully answering his question.

"Not because of this," he repeated, "but you will stay away."

I stood up and walked to look out the window behind his desk. "It's complicated, Pop."

"You make it complicated," he argued, not raising his voice.

"Maybe," I conceded. "I have to protect Stephanie."

"You can begin by telling me what you're talking about, and then I'll let you know how to go about doing that," her sweet voice sounded at the door.

Pop looked thrilled, and I wasn't sure if I should be pleased to have her seeking me out or guilty for attempting to make plans without her. But I knew I had a few precious seconds to decide how to proceed and I'd only get one chance to explain it myself.


	18. Non-Verbal Communication Speaks Volumes

_JE created the characters below._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for the countless hours you've spent reviewing chapters for this story. You are a talented beta, and I consider myself fortunate to be able to work with you._

**Chapter 18 – Non-Verbal Communication Speaks Volumes **

Since running out and claiming to have a work-related emergency was out of the question, I knew I had no choice but to respond to Stephanie's question. "Pop wanted to know if I was going to continue to stay away after spending a week here."

"And you told him it was complicated because you have to protect me?" she asked, summing up the conversation nearly verbatim.

"Yes," I responded, figuring that honesty was important, and I refused to backtrack, hoping she would give me some bonus points for being truthful.

"You would turn your back on your family if it's what I wanted?" she asked. "If I didn't feel safe being associated with all their…associations?"

"Family is very important to me," I began, aware that my father was listening to every word, "but you are my first priority. You and I are starting out to make a family of our own, so I have to honor that above all else."

"And if I don't want you to stay away from them?" she continued, pushing me figuratively into a corner. "If I said that I'd loved the time we spent here and wanted us to stay in regular contact with your parents and brother?"

"Then we would find a way to do that, too," I pledged, unsure how she could accept all of this so simply.

She made her wishes known and basically took away my ability to argue the point with one sentence. "Then, Mr. Pertucci, it looks like you need to keep Anthony's suite open because we'll be back to use it soon."

"Ah, Stephanie, you have made me a very happy man," Pop replied. "I can't wait to call Alexander and let him know that the better family won out."

"Won out?" she followed up, clearly as lost as I was.

"The day he saw you right after you moved to the house, he was bragging about being very close to convincing you to become his next Mrs. Ramos a few years ago. He was certain that if he had pressed his position a bit more, he could have worn you down. I told him he'd had too much Ouzo to drink, but he maintained it was only a matter of time before he wore you down to his side," Pop explained.

Stephanie burst out laughing. "I thought he was a crazy old man the day I picked him up and took him out for the liquor and cigarettes his sons wouldn't let him have, and after hearing that, I'm even more convinced he's nuts."

"Why did you pick him up for cigarettes and liquor?" Pop asked, saving me the embarrassment of admitting I knew nothing of this story.

"It's a long story, and it's probably more his to tell than mine. But I was just at the right place at the right time, and he seemed trustworthy enough, so I was able to do a good deed for him, and in the process, he helped me to help a friend," she offered as a weak explanation.

Out of what I could guess was respect for how Stephanie was protecting Alexander's privacy, Pop didn't push for more details. Instead, he sat down, and the three of us talked for another hour until his next appointment arrived. We said our goodbyes, and I was required to confirm that per Stephanie's wishes, we would return for another visit soon. Fortunately, I didn't have to define the word soon, so I hoped to stretch it out as much as possible before we came back.

Packing was a breeze because we agreed to leave the clothes Maria had picked up for us so that they would be here when we came back. After saying goodbye to a few people around the house and Uncle Guido – who was literally leaning against my truck waiting for another chance to thank Stephanie for all she did to offer him the chance at having a family of his own – we were finally on our way back to Trenton.

Normally, I loved the drive back north. I could easily put back up the walls that I had carefully constructed to keep the world out of my real self. Once I got back to my apartment at RangeMan, I could virtually disappear into the background as a quiet guy who was good enough at his job that he didn't need to be given a second thought.

Of course, riding anywhere with Stephanie meant talking, which took away the opportunity to turn off Anthony Pertucci and reengage Zip, the silent security guy. Then there was the fact that during the few breaks in conversation, I managed to worry about what life would be like once we got home. Would the guys discover that I'd allowed her to get hurt and then hid it from them, and if so, would I need Stephanie to drive me back to the compound for Vincent to put _me_ back together the next time?

Before I could get too lost in my thoughts, Stephanie suddenly grabbed my arm in a near-panicked manner and gasped. "My apartment, Anthony! What happened to Rex?"

In the hours we'd spent talking over the last ten days, I couldn't believe I'd forgotten to tell her about her place. "When I took you to Vincent's house, I sent a couple of the men my father employs to clean up the apartment and repair your front door. I guess Nick had busted up the place pretty well. They noticed Rex, they offered to take care of him, so I told them that would be okay. It was the only way I could figure out to keep him covered without alerting anybody about why you really left."

"Who are those guys?" she asked, relaxing her grip but not letting me go completely.

"My father refuses to allow me to be too far away from his protection, so there is a team of four men in Trenton that report to him that are basically there to do anything I need and to informally shadow me if Pop thinks I'm in any danger," I explained, resenting their presence even more when I explained it aloud.

"Wow, I'll bet you hate that, don't you?" she intuitively asked.

"You could say that," I replied and then tried to do better than my usual clipped response. "I mean, I get that Pop wants to mitigate the risk if I were to be targeted because of my relation to him and his business, but I hate the idea that there are times that people are following me and I can't call them off because they are way more afraid of Pop than they are of me."

"Do you ever try to lose them just for the hell of it?" she wondered with an amused tone.

"At least once every time I notice them," I confessed what I'd never admitted to my father. "When Pop finds out they lost me, they usually get in a world of trouble, which I should maybe feel bad about, but quite frankly, it's too much fun to stop, and if they were better at their job, then I wouldn't be able to lose them in the first place. So, as far as I'm concerned, it's really their fault they're in trouble."

"See, that right there is why I'm convinced we'll be happy together," she blurted out.

I had to admit my confusion. "Why, because I have a mean streak when it comes to the men my father assigns to me?"

"No," she chuckled as she jumped in. "Because you understand exactly why I hate it when Ranger assigns people to monitor me without talking to me about it first. We're a lot more alike than people would ever guess, and that's why we'll be happy."

"We're pretty different, too," I pointed out, wondering why my mouth had to show her the reverse of her argument at the same time.

"Yes, but that's just on the outside," she argued. "I talk when you'd rather be quiet, and I'm a lot more demonstrative in public than you are comfortable with, but you get me and I get you, so the outside stuff is enough difference to keep things interesting. The inside stuff – like feeling an attachment to a family that everyone else would consider horrible – that kind of thing is impossible to explain to somebody that doesn't have experience firsthand."

By the time she finished talking, I could see why we worked, and I also knew that the things our connection was based on were things the guys would never understand. While she and I were comfortable, we'd never be able to explain in a way that would make sense to them.

When we got to her apartment, I wasn't sure how to act. I managed to take her keys, do the standard security sweep I needed to do in order to relax in any unsecured space, and then report that all was well. When I came back into the main room, she was standing there at the entrance to the kitchen with a strange expression. It didn't take me long to figure out what had her awed when I followed her line of vision to the space her simple one by two foot hamster cage used to be. In its place was something two to three times its size, complete with tunnels, multiple running wheels, and what I could swear was a hammock – which was exactly where the little guy appeared to be curled up asleep. There were two dishes of food – one containing standard hamster pellets and another with some chopped up carrots and a large bottle of water clipped on the outside for him to drink from at will.

"What did they do?" Stephanie asked, not really sounding angry, just confused.

I approached the new hamster cage and found a note, which I carried over to Stephanie and read over her shoulder.

_Miss Plum, Our instructions from Mr. Pertucci were to upgrade anything in your home that we thought might bring you comfort. As it appeared this small pet was meaningful to you, we took it upon ourselves to bump up his living __quarters, as__ well. If you disapprove of our choice, his previous cage is in your hall __closet, sitting__ on top of the larger water heater we installed. We also left a few items specially selected by Ms. Maria at the compound that she thought young Mr. Pertucci might appreciate._

The note was signed Frankie and Stephan and included their cell phone numbers should she need anything at any time.

"Do you know these people?" Stephanie asked, still looking at the stationary in her hand.

"They are half of my assigned security detail," I explained, wondering if this was where being involved with the mob might become real for her and she was about to abandon ship and run for it.

"Do they all call you young Mr. Pertucci?" she surprised me by asking.

"No, but my shadows usually do," I begrudgingly admitted. "I think they do it to remind themselves I'm technically a smaller version of my father, but it is equally likely they do it because they know I hate it, so they are trying to get back at me for having the shitty job of babysitting the boss's son.

"Is this…" I had no idea how to ask what I needed to know without planting the idea in her head, just in case it wasn't there. "Is it too much to handle?"

She set the note down and turned to face me. Then, as if trying to drive in her point, she lifted her arms and put them around my neck, holding me tightly. "No, it's not too much. It's a lot to take in, but I have strange people coming and going all the time. And in the big scheme of things, this is no different than my mother filling out job applications on my behalf and dropping them off at different employers around town in the hope that I would change jobs. Both our families like to keep their noses in our business more than is probably considered normal, but we love them anyway, so we've learned to ignore most of it."

"You aren't ready to run screaming for the hills?" I couldn't believe how easily she was taking this.

A simple shake of her head was her initial answer. "No. Besides, I've always wanted a bigger water heater so I could take longer showers."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow to highlight my question. "And why do you need really long showers?"

The comfortable banter we so easily fell into was there, reminding me that being around Stephanie didn't have to be difficult unless I made it so. We teased each other for ten minutes, going back and forth about her previous need to stay in the showers because of something related to her magic showerhead. If she meant what I thought she meant, then my father had wasted his money, because she wouldn't be seeking any kind of satisfaction from a shower ever again. I might be unassuming at work, but I was trained by the Army to never fail at a mission, and I had sworn that Stephanie would always be satisfied. Plus, I was Italian, which meant I had enough male pride to interpret that mission to mean that her satisfaction would always come at my hand.

We were just about to make our way down the hall, when a knock sounded at her door. Remembering how many nut jobs seemed to know where she lived put me on high alert, and I instantly went from the horny guy about to get it on with his fiancé, to Zip the quiet security guy capable of kicking serious ass. The transition I couldn't pull off in the car happened immediately when I thought there was a chance of danger near my woman. That realization was a relief.

I looked through the peep hole and was only marginally relieved to see it was Lester. The part that wasn't relieved was pissed because I knew I couldn't convince Stephanie to ignore our friend on her doorstep, and if he came in, he would pull her attention away from me. As much as I appreciated his help the other day with Nick, I wasn't exactly ready to split my time with Stephanie with him yet.

"It's Les," I told her, wishing she would say to ignore him but not surprised by her answer.

"Let him in."

Fortunately, I hadn't lost all my years of control, because I managed to hold back the full eye roll that wanted to exhibit itself when she basically told me "you aren't going to get any right now, so you may as well let the guy in."

Opening the door as instructed, I attempted to look happy to see the person on the other side.

We bumped fists as he came in, and Les leaned in slightly to ask, "All taken care of?"

"Completely," I assured him, knowing he was referring to Nick.

"Hey, Beautiful," he called out in his usual easygoing style, walking right up to Stephanie and pulling her to him in a crushing hug, completely lifting her feet off the floor. "You are truly living up to your name."

"Hey, Les. It's so good to see you," she answered, sounding sincere.

"You doing okay?" he asked after setting her down.

"Yeah," she answered him lightly. Then, after he held her gaze for a moment, she backed down and admitted, "I had a bit of a rough patch with Nick, but Anthony helped me through it."

"Who's Anthony?" Les asked, making me realize I hadn't clued Stephanie in about just how little the guys knew about me.

She grimaced, as though understanding her mistake.

I hated that my need for privacy had made her feel as though she done something wrong, so I jumped in. "Anthony is my real name."

"I might have read that when you first started, but I've called you Zip for so long, it no longer seems weird that you don't have a real name," Les blew it off. Then he picked up on something else I hadn't wanted to share right away. "So, I'm guessing since you're on a first name basis that you two have gotten closer."

"Yes," I answered his question directly, slipping back into my habit of only offering what was directly asked – nothing more.

Stephanie, however, didn't have my habits. She lifted her left hand, the one with the small diamond I'd slipped on the night before, and used it to pull our co-worker to sit on the couch. Realizing it was pointless to try to fight the inevitable, I followed them over and sat on the couch, glad that Stephanie sat next to me, forcing Santos to take the arm chair to the side.

Once he sat down, Lester looked around, as though seeing the apartment for the first time. "Have you done something different in here?"

It wasn't until he pointed it out that I realized in addition to being cleaner than I think it had ever been, the couch we were sitting on was definitely new, and based on the way she was eyeing the chair, Lester's seat was also a replacement. The end tables and lamps had to be new, since they had been completely destroyed by Nick. And sitting on the wall opposite us was a brand new flat screen television, video system, and Blu-ray player.

She looked around and then mumbled in my direction, "They don't do anything halfway, do they?"

That made me laugh, but I covered it quickly. Not fast enough to escape Lester's notice, but enough that I didn't have to worry my skills were completely gone.

"After Nick and I broke up, he was pretty mad, and he came over and trashed my apartment. Most of the stuff had to be replaced, so a lot of this is new," she explained, answering his question and taking the spotlight off me at the same time.

"It's nice," he replied, nodding as he looked around.

I had to admit, they'd done a good job of upgrading everything without completely taking over the style. It still looked exactly like something Stephanie would have picked out herself and blended in with the whole apartment motif.

A brief moment of silence fell, which made me suspicious about why Lester was here.

Luckily, he didn't let it continue to build, as he admitted, "Look, I know why you had to get out of town, and while Mr. Zip-the-Lips over there wouldn't give me details, I know that the former firefighter hurt you. As far as most of the guys at the office know, Zip had a family emergency come up, and since you and Nick had just broken up, it was a good time for you to skip town and hang out with his folks for a while to avoid the 'Burg."

I nodded, as it was the exact story I'd given him and had told Stephanie about.

"I really appreciate you telling them that," she replied. "I hate that you had to lie to the guys, but I really don't want everybody to know how things ended, and I can't stand the idea of them looking at me with pity or anger if they ever got the full picture."

"Nobody would be mad at you," Les jumped in before I had a chance to. "We'd be pissed as hell at the bastard that hurt you, but never at you."

"Well, since the guy that hurt me isn't around anymore, that anger would have to go somewhere," she answered, making me wonder who else had taken out their temper on her for stuff that was totally not her fault.

I couldn't stop myself from wanting to comfort her. Everything my mind came up with to say sounded like cheesy crap, especially knowing this conversation had ears, so I kept my mouth closed and lifted my left arm to put it around her shoulders. I'd done it so many times over the last week that it was second nature to me. She responded in her typical way by melting against me and letting her head rest against my shoulder. Hell, she even let out a small sigh, which just did a guy's ego all kinds of good.

When I snapped out of the spell Stephanie seemed to cast over me, I couldn't help but notice that Lester was looking at us. His eyes were going at an alarming rate in the same circle – my hand on her shoulder, her head against me, and then her left hand, which she had just lifted to place on my chest. A man would have to be dead to not enjoy being touched by Stephanie, so I hadn't really noticed her turning to get closer to me, but there, seated on her finger, was the ring he must have missed the first time she showed him her hand.

"You two…" he started, but he seemed unsure how to ask what had to be rattling around in his head. "When I said you'd gotten closer, I meant that you'd gotten on a first-name basis and learned enough about each other to be close friends."

"Yes," I agreed, knowing it wasn't all that happened, but that was certainly how this started between us.

"Then what's that?" He summed up his question by pointing to her engagement ring.

Stephanie looked at what he was pointing to and then smiled before answering him. "This is an engagement ring. Anthony gave it to me."

"As in...you guys are getting married?" Les could hold a cover as well as the next guy, but at the moment, all his emotions were coming through. He was shocked, perhaps slightly disappointed, and completely confused over this news.

"Yes, we're going to get married," she clarified. "We don't know when or where, but for now, we're both content to have this between us, and we hope our family and friends are excited about it, too."

"You really want to marry a guy named Zip?" Les pushed.

I should have been insulted by that, but it was actually a compliment that I'd so controlled what the guys knew about me over the last few years that he thought I didn't have enough personality to keep Stephanie happy.

She found his question funny and had to wait to answer until she stopped laughing. "Actually, I'm going to marry a guy named Anthony, who is nicknamed Zip, but after spending the last week with him, I don't think I can call him Zip anymore."

For some reason, that statement made me happy, even though I knew it would mean the guys would quickly come to know my real name, which would probably allow them to eventually connect the dots to who I was related to.

"And yes, I really want to marry him. There's a lot more to him than you guys know, and after getting to see the guy behind the nickname, I am convinced we'll be good together."

"I thought you were against marriage in general," Les argued.

That caused her to make a face like she disagreed but couldn't remember with any certainty if she'd ever actually used those words. "I'm not against marriage in general, but I am against marriage to the wrong person. I've already done that, and I know how horrible it can be. I wasn't interested in a wedding to quiet my mother, and I certainly didn't want one just because I was hitting a certain number of years that may or may not have meant I was entering certain spinsterhood."

"Then what changed your mind?" If anything, her words seemed to have confused him more.

"My mind on those things hasn't changed. But the difference with Anthony is that he gets me, and I think I get him, too. I've never had that before, and it made everything else seem so natural that for the first time in my life, I wasn't holding a part of me back or trying to overcompensate and be something I wasn't. I could just be me, and it was obvious he thought that I was okay just the way I was."

That response sat out there for a while as I tried not to look impressed with myself and Lester tried to figure out what she'd really said.

"Shit, man, I wouldn't want to be you when the boss hears about this," Les finally warned.

"That's ridiculous," Stephanie cut in. "_The boss_ had years to step up if he ever wanted something with me; instead, he did the opposite and was very clear that we would never be more than we were. I respect him enough to take him at his word, so if he's unhappy, he has no one to blame but himself."

"You mean, if he'd manned up sooner, you and the boss might have…" He wisely let the rest of his question go unspoken.

"No, we wouldn't have," she answered, sounding so certain, I fully believed her. "I'm sure he'll be full of questions about what has changed in my life so quickly, but he'll understand the same way I always did that he and I are great friends, but we can't be more than that."

We had already discussed Ranger, so I wasn't surprised by her answer. But I couldn't deny that it reassured me slightly at the same time.

"So, since you're in town, and this guy is around the office all the time, does that mean we'll get to see more of you, too?" he asked, allowing the conversation to take a more lighthearted turn, for which I was grateful.

"Oh, I'm sure you will," she agreed, looking back at me, as if confirming it was all right.

I still refused to ramble in front of one of the guys, but I wouldn't leave her wondering, either, so I simply leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Her eyes closed slightly, and she let out a breath, as though my response had answered all her questions.

An hour later, we'd caught up on all the RangeMan news, and Lester finally excused himself, leaving me alone with Stephanie once more. She locked the doors, including the new floor bolt I couldn't help but notice had been installed. That was one lock no one from RangeMan could pick, which meant we had much better security than her old door used to provide. The idea of truly being able to lock out the world reminded me where we'd been before we were interrupted.

Stephanie turned from her task of locking up and instantly recognized the expression on my face. "Hey, before you get lost there..." She held up a hand to get my attention. "As much as I loved your nonverbal communication, there are going to be times you may actually have to talk to me in front of the guys for them to believe what we have is real."

"I'm not interested in talking to the guys," I told her as I took a few slow steps, nearly stalking her.

"No, but _I_ am interested in you talking to me," she clarified. "And sometimes, you have to hear the words to get the full meaning."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I can communicate clearly with you without having to say a word," I teased, effectively cornering her against the door.

Despite her initial disagreement to my claim, an hour and a half later, she knew I loved her – adored her, really – and that I was fully committed to her satisfaction. All that, and I hadn't said a word. Sometimes, verbal communication was truly overrated.


	19. Back to Business

_The characters below all belong to JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) once again you've outdone yourself as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 19 – Back to Business**

A sound not unlike a dog would make if you tried to take their favorite toy came from the bathroom, so I dared to enter without permission, only to find Stephanie glaring at her image in the mirror.

When she saw me appear behind her, she pointed at my reflection and fussed, "This is all your fault."

I couldn't imagine what I had managed to mess up in the short amount of time we'd been awake, so I decided to take a page from my father's playbook and assume guilt unless my innocence proved itself. "I'm sure it is, so if you'd be kind enough to tell me what I've done, I'll try very hard not to do it again."

The harsh expression she'd been maintaining completely disintegrated at my admission, and she spun around to explain. "My hair won't cooperate this morning."

Seeing an opportunity to get closer to her, I put my hands on her hips, drew her body next to mine, and nuzzled her neck, pushing her hair back with my nose. "Then wear it up," I advised. "It will give me better access to that spot right behind your ear that seems to drive you crazy."

"I would," she answered in breathy enough voice that I knew I was getting through to her, "but you left some pretty dark marks on my neck last night, and if I pull my hair up, they'll be on display."

"Even better," I blurted out without stopping to think through my answer. The idea of everyone she came across that day knowing that she had been thoroughly loved the night before made me want to add a few more marks in a pattern to spell out my name. Since I doubted that she would appreciate that, I decided to refrain.

"You have to stop," she spoke with no heat at all in her voice, "or we'll never get to work today."

Although I didn't want to quit, she made a good point. Tank had been more than lenient in allowing me to disappear without notice and stay gone for over a week. It might be poking the bull one too many times to call off again today – especially since our personal leave policy didn't specifically list horniness as an appropriate use of time off.

Using strength I didn't know I had, I moved back. "I didn't realize the marks bothered you," I admitted, wondering if my voice sounded as much like a child in her ears as it did in mine. "I can hold back on that kind of thing in the future."

"I think we both know I liked it," Stephanie quickly set me straight. "In fact, I'm pretty sure all my neighbors know I liked it. I just didn't want the guys to see this and think all we share is physical. I mean, we share that too, but it's a lot more than that."

Knowing what she meant, I decided to be helpful. "There is a dress in your closet similar to what you wore to dinner the first night at my parents' house. It has a high collar that would hide most of the bruises. If you pulled your hair back and then let a few pieces fall down, it would probably disguise the rest."

She looked at me like I'd just grown a second head. Before I could reach up to be sure nothing unusual had sprouted, she spoke. "That's a great idea, and I don't mean to be insulting here, but I'm completely surprised you came up with it."

In a way, that was a compliment. I mean, I thought of myself as a masculine guy – secure enough in my manhood to coo at a baby in my arms, but not so flighty I felt the need to look at color palates and china patterns. So the fact that she was shocked I'd come up with a hair and outfit combo meant she didn't see me usually thinking about women's fashion – which was true. "I do think about things other than guns and ammo," I responded, wondering why that was what my mouth chose to say.

"You proved that last night," she countered with a smile, basically telling me that once we finished our time at RangeMan, she was more than okay with a repeat of what we'd shared.

Forty-five minutes later, I was about to clean my gun a second time, when Stephanie finally stepped out and announced she was ready to go. "You are so beautiful," I told her, hating that I'd just been handling my firearm, because I didn't like the idea of marring her lovely face with a hand that had just touched an instrument of death.

When we pulled into the garage at RangeMan, she surprised me by turning slightly in the seat and saying, "Today is probably going to be really strange. Some people will be happy to hear about us; others will give you some grief. I need you to let me handle Ranger if he's there. The rest of the guys we can take care of as they come up. But I refuse to hide, and I refuse to pretend what we have isn't the best thing that's ever happened to me."

It was true that I didn't talk a lot, but that was usually by choice. My mind tended to be very active, even if my mouth was still. But in this moment, I was truly speechless. Finally, I snapped out of it enough to ask, "You think I'm the best thing that ever happened to you?"

"I know you are," she answered, leaning in, as though trying to make her point. "You saved my life – literally – by showing up when you did. And on top of that, you brought me back from a place where I was convinced something was wrong with me because everybody I knew seemed to think I had to change. You were the first person that seemed to fully accept me for me – strange family, horrific job, weird friends, and all. As far as I'm concerned, that makes you the best thing ever."

Without a second thought, I leaned in and kissed her. I tried to hold back so that I wouldn't ruin whatever she'd done to her face at home that seemed to take forever, but I had to at least try to show her what her words meant to me. When we pulled back, she took a couple of long breaths before opening her eyes. They were a dark blue, and I hated that we were in a monitored garage because I knew that meant she wanted more than just a simple kiss over the console of the truck.

"When we're done today, we're going back to my apartment and locking the doors before picking that back up where we left off," she announced.

"We should pick up dinner on the way home, then, so we don't have to stop for food," I reminded her, getting a grin in return.

While she did a quick double check on the contents of her purse, I jumped out and went to the other side of the truck to open her door. She slid down and straightened out wrinkles that I couldn't see in her skirt before looking up at me and winking. "Are you ready?"

"Sure," I answered, allowing her to hold my hand and drawing on years of practice to not puff out my chest that she was choosing to hold onto me. "Who doesn't love a good inquisition?"

When the doors opened on five, Cal happened to be standing there and practically roared, "Bomber, you're back!" before yanking her away from me and enveloping her in a bear hug that lifted her high off the floor.

The instant grimace on her face let me know that despite the huge strides she'd made in her recovery, being handled that roughly was too much for her. Before I could say anything, Tank's voice rang over the floor.

"Cal, put her down. She's not a doll for you to play with!"

Being the well-trained soldier he was, Stephanie's feet instantly hit the floor before Cal leaned down to her level and spoke much quieter, "It's great to have you back." He nodded his head in my direction and moved to his cubical.

We managed to make it three feet onto the floor before Vince came by, slung an arm around her shoulder, and joked, "I knew that even though you'd skipped town with this guy, you'd come back for my good looks and steller conversation skills." A nod to me was my return greeting.

We were interrupted three more times by Hal, Binkie, and Brett before Ranger appeared in his doorway. I thought he was still on a mission, but based on the sling on his arm, he was done fighting for the moment. "Babe," he called out, as though it were both greeting and a call for her to come to him.

Stephanie turned back and took my hand in hers before walking across the hall and stopping in front of our boss.

"I'm glad to see you're back," he spoke once we arrived at his office.

"I could say the same thing about you," she replied, squeezing my hand just as I began to get irritated at how intensely he was staring at her.

"Zip..." Ranger finally pulled his gaze in my direction. I nodded at his use of my name, which allowed him to basically dismiss me by saying, "Tank needs you to check in with him in his office." Turning back to Stephanie, he held out a hand. "And I'd like a little time with you, as well."

"I'll be right there," she promised him before spinning around to face me. "Go see Tank. I'll see what Ranger wants, and then I'll be at my desk until lunch. We can go out for a bite and catch up then, okay?"

My mouth said, "Okay," but my head was screaming, "hell no, it's not okay. That is the man that used to take you behind the bonds office whenever he could to kiss the fire out of you when you were with the cop." The thought of my boss putting the moves on my fiancé was too much to handle, so I just nodded and turned to go to Tank's office as directed.

When I was almost to the door, Stephanie called out, "Thank you for that."

Completely confused, I asked, "For what?"

"For not making a thing out of this," she answered, basically letting me know that the blood I could taste in my mouth from literally biting my tongue was probably a good thing because it kept me from saying what I was really thinking, which would probably have pissed her off.

Instead, I tried very hard to be the kind of man she deserved by replying, "I trust you," and then moving through the doors of Tank's domain.

"Door," Tank called out when I entered.

I obeyed without comment and shut the door so that we had some level of privacy.

He waited until I sat down to start talking. "Everything cool with your folks?"

I nodded and waited, knowing that wasn't why he asked me to close us in.

"Everything cool with Stephanie?"

Again, I did my bobble head routine, but this time, Tank slammed his hand down on the desk. "Man, I get the quiet thing. I ain't exactly known for being a big talker here, but you're going to do better than that. What the hell happened to her?"

"What makes you think something happened to her?" I asked, unwilling to disclose Stephanie's secrets and unsure why Tank suspected anything.

Tank rubbed the back of his neck with his massive hand before sitting back in his chair, making it squeak from the strain of his weight shifting. "Look, I'm no fool. When Ranger is in the wind, it's my job to run his company and keep an eye on Stephanie. Since she was with the firefighter, she'd kept a lower profile, so I didn't keep tabs on her quite as close. But one day, there's a distress call; the next day, you're hauling her off to God-knows-where for a week and a half. When I went to her apartment looking for clues about what was going on, I find a couple of greasy-haired Italian guys in dark suits acting like interior designers, and then when she comes back and somebody hugs her like they always do, there's pure pain written all over her face."

"I can't give you the details because Stephanie made me promise not to," I told him, holding up my hands in the hope he wouldn't shoot the messenger.

This time, his hand covered his face and moved up and down a few times before he leaned forward, straining his chair once more. "All right, I get that, and I respect it. But is she okay physically? Why did a hug hurt her?"

"She's going to be okay," I replied, knowing I had to give the big man something. "She went through something, but everything has been corrected, and other than some restrictions and tenderness for a few more weeks, she'll be back to normal in no time." I was probably making it slightly more upbeat than Vincent would have, but I felt the need to sell it so that Tank would stop pushing for more information.

"You didn't like that." He shifted gears so fast, I was lost until I realized Tank has one of his beefy fingers pointing to Ranger's office beyond his closed door.

I shook my head no, but didn't think any other words were necessary.

He finally gave up and got to the heart of things. "What changed while you two were gone?"

Normally, I would have played it cool and tried to say as little as possible, but Stephanie's words from the garage were still in my ears, so I decided to take my cues from her and not hide what we had. "In the time we were together, we got to know each other – really know each other – and everything changed for us while we were gone."

"Everything?" Now Tank seemed to be the one that was confused.

"Yes," I agreed. "I talk more, she worries less, and we're engaged."

"You're _what?_"

"We're engaged," I repeated.

"To be married?" It was as if the words didn't hold the right meaning for him.

"There's not another kind of engaged," I pointed out. "Yes, we're going to get married. So when you said that I didn't like it when Ranger called Stephanie into his office and then dismissed me, that's why."

"Is she going to tell him?" Tank wondered.

I shrugged. "I would think so. She told me she wasn't hiding this, even though no one would understand why we're together and we'd probably get a lot of grief. My guess is she'll tell the most important person here about our news."

"You know you're going to have to get over that, right?" he cryptically began. "The thing where you turn into a robot whenever those two go out of sight."

"I'm working on it," I responded flatly. "It's still kind of new."

"If you want her to stay happy, then you'll work on it faster," he advised. "Ranger would never marry her, but he has some kind of connection to her that neither one of them understands. A few months ago, they finally seemed to agree that they should never pursue what was between them, but that doesn't mean that Ranger would let her be with just anyone."

"He let her be with the firefighter," I nearly growled out.

Tank raised an eyebrow but wisely didn't comment any further about my tone. "He was out of town when they hooked up, and upon his return, he was not exactly what I'd describe as pleased by the rumors of their relationship."

I ran a hand over the top of my hair, forgetting I'd pulled it back like I always did at RangeMan. Stephanie had me wearing it down because she had a thing about running her fingers through it, and I'd gotten used to it being loose. Realizing that thinking of Stephanie's fingers in my hair wasn't getting me any further in this conversation, I dropped my hand awkwardly and admitted what was eating at me. "Then I guess he's going to be even less pleased by the reality of her relationship now."

This time, I got a blank face in return for a brief second. "Don't presume to know what he thinks. He wants her to be happy with somebody that can appreciate her without trying to either change her or smother her in the name of keeping her safe. You just might fit the bill, so wasting energy trying to predict his reaction doesn't seem like a good idea."

Realizing it was good advice, I nodded and said nothing in return.

Once he realized I wasn't going to strike up any more conversation, he lifted a folder and said, "Sign these leave forms and get them back to me to file, and you'll be squared away."

I took the folder he held out and stood to take my leave.

Just as my hand hit the doorknob, he spoke again. "You hurt her, and I'll kill you nice and slow before hiding the body. You got it?"

My mind flashed to Nick, and I figured that probably described his ultimate demise realistically so it seemed like a fitting punishment for the crime. "I've got it, but just to be clear, if she gets hurt, it damn well won't be by my hand. I'm quiet and blend in because I choose to, but that woman is my world now, so I'll stop at nothing to see her happy."

"I get it, man," Tank replied with what sounded like a laugh, but I refused to turn around and verify it. "I couldn't see it at first, but obviously some serious shit happened between you two, because I don't think I've ever heard you say that much voluntarily in all the years I've known you. If you hold true to that, then you can count on me, and most every man here, to help you out with that anytime you need us."

"Thanks," I answered, not willing to drag this conversation out anymore. I'd made enough of a woman out of myself by helping Stephanie pick out her outfit for the day. I didn't need to make it worse by suddenly getting chatty.

I walked slowly by Ranger's office door, which was still closed. I told myself it was because I was leafing through the pages in the folder from Tank, but to be honest, I was straining to hear something – anything – coming from behind the door. Realizing I couldn't just stand there, I forced myself to go to my cubicle and sit down.

The two forms from Tank were standard enough. I just signed them without much of a read-through. There was also an instruction that with immediate leave like I had taken, I had to recertify with Bobby on my physical status and Ram at the gun range. Weighing the two options, I decided that using my newly cleaned sidearm was exactly what I needed at the moment, so I headed downstairs in the hope Ram would have some free time to watch me shoot at paper men.

Thirty minutes later, I'd fired a variety of weapons with perfect precision, so Ram didn't hesitate to sign off on my reinstatement form from Tank. Just as he finished his signature, he checked his phone and announced, "Man, I've got to jump on a skip. Can you sweep the casings?"

Knowing he'd done me a favor and I wasn't actually on the schedule at all today, I agreed to play housekeeper and got the broom from the closet to push the spent metal to the corner. Just as I was finishing up, the door flung opened, and I spun around to see a smiling Stephanie standing there watching me.

"I swear, every day, you get more perfect. This morning, you helped to dress me, and now, you've proven you can do housework, too. I'm starting to wonder which one of us will be the wife in this marriage."

I tried to be gentle as I set down the dustpan, but my pride had been slightly wounded by her teasing.

She eased her way in and moved to stand in front of the lane I'd used earlier. My Glock was still there, with the cartridge out and to the side. She picked up the cartridge and looked inside before picking up the gun and holding them both. "It seems to me you once promised to work with me on my comfort level around guns. Obviously, I need a lot of help, because I'm not very comfortable at the moment."

"Of course you're not," I announced, "You're holding it all wrong." And just like that, I saw a way to reassert my manhood, and I stalked over to her, puffing up to my full height so that I could tower above her slightly and take the gun from her hands to return it to the shelf where it had been resting. Her eyes were twinkling, so I couldn't resist saying, "You want to play?" When she nodded, I added, "All right, but we're on my home turf, so you have to play by my rules."

"I'm pretty sure you've proven your rules take care of me too, so I'm game if you are," she taunted me back.

Without warning, I grabbed her hips, spun her around, and pressed my chest to her back. I moved a foot between her legs to indicate she needed to open her stance, and then I ran my hands up and down her arms. "Shooting is about focus and relaxation," I taught her. "Most people miss because they are either distracted or so uptight, they are shaking, but if you can master yourself enough to focus on what you're about to do and relax when you pull the trigger, the bullet will go exactly where you want it to go."

"You make it sound so easy," she replied, not sounding convinced it was possible.

"It is that easy," I repeated while assembling the gun and setting it back down in front of us so it would be ready to go. "Do you see the paper man at the end of the lane?" As I whispered, I leaned my face down to be at the shell of her ear so that the warmth of my breath would blow across the sensitive skin there.

She nodded that she'd heard me and then shivered slightly.

"Let's pretend that he has taken the last cannoli in Trenton and is holding it hostage. You don't need to kill a man over Italian pastries, but you can wound him enough to buy yourself some time to get over there and claim it for your own."

Again, she nodded, as though my voice, the sensation of my breath on her, and my hands still running up and down her arms had put her in some kind of trance.

I picked up the gun and put it in her right hand, closing her left hand over it to offer support. "You want to be sure he doesn't run away with the cannoli, so aiming for a leg is probably a really good place to start."

She moved her hands, and it appeared as though she were pointing it in the general direction. I made a few minor modifications to the way the gun was seated in her hand, all the while speaking to her of dessert. Then I put earphones over her precious ears and resumed my place behind her. When I raised my voice and said loudly, "Take him down," she fired three times and then stopped. I lifted one of the ear phones from her head and said, "Now try his right shoulder in case he decided to try to hold onto them even after you took out his legs."

After she'd fired three more times, I stepped back and took the gun from her, discharging the cartridge, checking the action to be sure it was clear, flipping the switch to bring the target in closer for our inspection, and then removing her ear covers.

I spun her around and kissed her with everything I had in me. I kissed her because I wanted to reconnect after we'd been apart, I kissed her in a foolish attempt to show her I could give her the same things Ranger could, and I kissed her because watching her shoot a gun with just the two of us down here was sexy as hell – and kissing was only the beginning of what I wanted to do to her.

Just as we came up for air, the door opened the range and Lester came in. He whistled as he took in the sight of her three thigh shots within an inch of each other and the three in the target's right shoulder, all perfectly grouped. "Damn, Beautiful. I didn't know you could shoot like that."

"I didn't, either," she confessed, wiping at the corner of her mouth, as though embarrassed about something.

"What did this guy do to you to get you this good so quickly?" Les asked, fully expecting a serious response.

Her former timidness was forgotten as she winked at me again and answered our friend. "He talked to me about…cannoli." Then the little vixen walked out.

"Man, everybody's got a name for it, but I never thought to use it as leverage at the gun range," Santos tried to tease me.

I probably should have set the record straight, but at the moment, the woman I loved most in this world was getting away from me, and it was close enough to lunch that I thought it was time for her to see my apartment on four. With any luck, I could come up with another cannoli lesson that was all Italian but had nothing to do with pastries.


	20. Just Desserts

_JE gets the credit for creating the wonderful characters below._

_Jenny (JenRar), you get the credit for taking the mess I sent you and turning into something readable. Thanks for your hard work as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 20 – Just Desserts**

"You don't have to wear a suit tonight," Stephanie told me, brushing something off my right shoulder.

"Yes, I do." I hated to disagree with her, but she couldn't be more wrong. First of all, the first time I officially met her parents, it wasn't going to be in my work clothes, looking like some sort of vigilante. And perhaps more importantly, I knew my parents would kill me if I dressed casually to meet my future in-laws after years of being forced to wear a tie for evening meals in their house. Strangely, as much as I hated the collar up tight around my neck, I wouldn't be comfortable unless I was wearing it. That strange juxtaposition was another of those thoughts I figured was best left unsaid.

An eye roll was her response before she ducked into her closet once more, leaving her ass up in the air, moving slightly as she reached around on the floor, looking for some shoes. Since this would be the fourth pair she'd tried on, I figured it was best to stay out of this and just let her do what she felt she needed to.

Dinners at the Plum house were the things of legend. And while I'd never gone into their home, I'd worked plenty of shifts securing the perimeter and watching as she entered and exited the place where she'd grown up. That didn't give me much to go off of as far as what to expect this evening, so I tried to keep myself from dwelling on it. I thought back on my strange day at work to divert my attention from Stephanie's backside in the air as some sort of siren's call to make us late for dinner.

When Ranger pulled me into his office this afternoon, I knew I had no choice but to endure whatever he had to say. For the two days we'd been back, I could feel the boss watching me, and I knew at some point, we'd have a chat. A head nod as I passed him in the hallway was my official invitation. I was just glad he nodded to his office and not to the gym. It's not that I didn't feel as though a round or two on the mats was called for, but I knew Stephanie wanted to go to dinner tonight at her parents' house, and I really didn't relish the idea of my first impression being made with a few broken bones and visible bruises.

Knowing my boss was a master of intimidation and seeing it firsthand directed at me were two entirely different things. From the moment my butt hit his guest chair, I knew this was Ranger's home turf and not designed to put me at ease in any way.

"You are going to marry Stephanie," he stated it as fact, but I knew it was question just the same.

"Yes, sir," I replied, slipping back into my Army training easily.

"You, the son of a mafia Don, think that you have what it takes to make her happy," he pushed once more, both challenging and insulting me at once.

"Yes sir, I believe I will make it my life's mission," I countered, hoping he'd remember all the missions I'd served on with him and how I'd never failed on one of those.

After a beat of silence, he shook his head and mumbled, "Santos, I could have pictured, maybe even Bobby, but _you,_ I never saw coming."

"If it makes you feel any better, sir, I hadn't planned on this, either," I offered.

His blank face dropped at my words, and I reran the last few words through my head, trying to figure out what had pissed him off.

"She's got enemies, seems to find trouble easier than most people can find bargains in a store, and now you're going to pull her into your family," he clarified. "How in the hell are you going to keep her safe?"

"Outside of you and Tank, and now Santos, no one here knows who I am in relation to my family," I reminded him. There was no way I could come here to work without Ranger knowing the full story of who I was. It never interfered with my job, so outside of the full disclosure when I first started, we'd never discussed my connections. "There is no reason to think that she'll be thrust into any more danger than usual. And if she's threatened for any reason, my family has more than enough resources to protect one of our own."

"Maybe between them and us, we have a prayer of that being true," he bit out, making me wonder if those words were for my benefit or not.

"The men aren't happy about this," he pointed out.

"They aren't happy that she's settling down before they got their chance to ask her out," I said, clarifying what he was really saying. "It has nothing to do with it being me; they're just pissed they didn't have the courage to make a move."

"And you see yourself as more courageous than the men you work with?" he suggested.

"No," I disagreed, unwilling to let a miscommunication like that stand uncorrected. "I see myself as more fortunate because I had a period of uninterrupted time with her to get to know her better. And I was in a position to offer her help when she needed it and could accept it."

"She has a thing about accepting help," Ranger advised. "If she's in a corner, that's fine, but if you try to force it on her before she's ready to accept it, she'll shoot you down."

"That, I know." I tried to keep the concern about his words out of my voice. Seeing that the combination of us both having terse conversation skills was slowing this down, I decided to just level with him. "Look, I get that no one thinks I'm good enough for Stephanie. I get it – hell, I agree with it. But you know me well enough to know I'm loyal as the day is long, my word has always been my vow, and I'd rather cut my right hand off than live with the thought of having hurt her. I tried to fight this. I made so many arguments about why she needed to run from me, but she kept pushing to stay by my side, and once I gave up and let her in, I realized there is no one else that would fit there. I love her. I think I can make her happy, and I'd never intentionally hurt her. So, whether or not anybody understands why she wants to be with me is beside the point. She's wants me, and I'd really appreciate a chance to show you all just how devoted to her happiness I can be. You have the ability to screw this up for me, but I hope you won't, because I like working here, and I know how important you are to her."

When I finished spewing at the mouth, Ranger lifted a hand and rubbed it over his face. As his hand dropped, so did his blank face. "I hadn't thought about you two together because I knew you had perfected keeping people away from you. You were probably the one person here I figured understood my stance on relationships because you seemed to be more opposed to them than I was. But that doesn't mean I don't think you would be good for her."

By RangeMan standards, we'd both spoken volumes, so I was shocked when he opened his mouth once more.

"She shared what she went through with the firefighter and how you handled it. You never left her side, you made her safe, and then you took out the threat in a way that she could play a part in without actually corrupting her. Most of us would have stormed in, killed Nick, and taken her anger as our just desserts. Obviously, your approach was the right one and why she's right to stick with you. I'm not saying that I won't still be watching you to be sure you don't screw this up, but I have a feeling you're good for her."

There was probably something appropriate to say to that, but I sure as shit didn't know what it was. "So you aren't planning on calling me to the mats for asking her to marry me?"

At that simple question, Ranger barked out a laugh. I hadn't been trying to make a joke, but it was so unusual to see him laugh that freely that I wasn't pissed at his amusement, either. Finally, he explained, "No, I'm not calling you to the mats." He let that sit out there for a moment before adding, "Stephanie told me I couldn't."

Now it was my turn to laugh.

It was cut short when he said, "But she did tell me that you're going to dinner at her parents' house tonight, which I figure will hurt you a lot more than I could dish out in the gym, so I can let it go knowing that to make a life with Stephanie means making a life with her grandmother, so you'll be getting regular enough abuse that I don't need to add to it."

Seeing that the serious part of the conversation was over, I stood up to leave.

Just before I got to the door, he stopped laughing and threatened, "You hurt her, and I'll send your family just enough to know their youngest son is gone, but the rest will never be found. Capisce?"

"Yeah," I agreed. "I understand."

Stephanie pulled me back to the present when she spun around, tilted her head, and looked at me. "Why do you seem pale? Are you nervous about tonight?" Then she did some kind of strange one-legged hopping dance while she managed to put shoes that could have doubled as stilts on her feet. At first I was worried she'd break an ankle, but it was obvious she'd done this kind of thing before, and once she stood back on both feet, her legs looked amazing, and I'd forgotten what I'd been concerned about in the first place. "Honestly, I know Grandma's wandering fingers are a bit unusual for someone her age, but she has arthritis, so it's not like she's pinching hard enough to hurt. I've never understood why you guys are so afraid of her."

"No, I wasn't worried about that, although now that you've brought it up, I might begin to," I answered. "I was just thinking back to my conversation with Ranger today."

"Tell me he didn't take you the mats..." She began to work up a full head of steam on my behalf. "I made him promise to leave you alone."

I moved to stand in front of her and ran my hands up and down her arms to calm her down once she literally stomped her foot. Her attempt at righteous indignation on my behalf was kind of funny, but I knew laughing right now wouldn't help to improve her mood. "Relax. He didn't call me to the mats, and as long as I treat you the way I'm supposed to, he won't."

"Then why did the memory of you guys talking make you look like you were on the receiving end of a firing squad?"

"Because he had a bit of fun at my expense, pointing out that marrying you meant being a part of your family completely," I replied, jumping in again before she could feel insulted on her family's behalf. "And since I'm not exactly a catch as compared to a Trenton detective, they may not be all that thrilled at gaining me as a member."

"Relax," she assured me. "You, they will be fine with. It's me they can't figure out. They'll probably be relieved to know somebody – anybody – is going to marry me so that I won't be one of the girls on the old maid watch list for the 'Burg anymore."

Knowing that was one of those things I'd never understand, I intentionally didn't ask her to clarify and instead pointed out that we needed to leave if we were going to make it there on time.

Fifteen minutes later, I was about to knock on the front door of my future in-laws', but it was jerked open by Stephanie's mother, and we were motioned in quickly. "Honestly, Stephanie, if you're going to bring someone with you to dinner, you should have warned me that he was a real person and not one of those people you work with."

What did she mean, I was a real person? While I was still trying to figure out if I'd been complimented or insulted, Stephanie spoke up.

"Mom, he is one of the people I work with."

Hearing that made Mrs. Plum stop and give me a full once over. "He doesn't look like the others."

Mr. Plum's voice surprised all of us as he stepped up and announced, "That's because he's Italian." Then he moved to kiss Stephanie on the cheek. "Hey, pumpkin," he told her and then disappeared as quickly as he came.

Before the silence could stretch out too long, I stepped forward and held out my hand. "Mrs. Plum, my name is Anthony Pertucci. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She gave me a weak shake in return and then turned on her heel, calling out, "Stephanie, can I have your help in the kitchen?" as she retreated back to her domain.

Stephanie gave my hand a squeeze and advised, "Go watch the game with Daddy. He won't talk, so you'll be safe with him."

"What about you?" I worried, knowing Mrs. Plum wasn't exactly known for being kind to her daughter or accepting of her choices.

"You're never safe with me," she answered, giving me a look much like one Lester's face usually wore. I knew she didn't want to go, but I also understood this was her family and I didn't have the right to interfere.

I walked as far as the living room by her side before stopping to watch her walk through the swinging door into the kitchen, leaving me to sit with her father in front of the Ranger's game on television.

Knowing he wasn't known for his skills of conversation, I was shocked when he muted the television and turned to look at me. "Was that a diamond on my daughter's finger?"

"Yes, sir, it was," I answered, suddenly wondering if the greater threat was Mr. Plum, and not my boss, as I'd originally feared.

"She looked relaxed, which I took to mean she was happy," he observed, proving there was more to this man than I initially gave him credit for.

"I believe she is," I agreed, unsure where he was going.

"Do you have your own place?" he pushed, clearly after something.

"I have an apartment at RangeMan," I replied.

"Is there any chance you'll end up needing to live here?" he continued, explaining his last question.

Somehow, I managed to suppress the shudder at that thought. "No, sir. I have plenty of resources and savings, so living here will never be a necessity." I never thought I'd see the day when living at the family compound would sound so appealing.

He stuck out his hand, which I copied, feeling the firm grip of his handshake. "If you hurt my baby, I'll hunt you down and bury the pieces." Then he released me and turned to face the television once more. "But as long as she's happy, then welcome to the nut house."

"Thank you, sir," I replied, letting the threat go without responding to it.

Ten minutes later, we were being called to dinner, and Stephanie thoughtfully put me between her and her father so that she was directly next to her grandmother. I hadn't had a chance to speak to the oldest member of their family yet, but the way she kept wagging her eyebrows at me had me slightly afraid of her. I was a damn Army Ranger, and an eighty-year-old woman was making me feel the need to loosen my necktie so that I could make a run for it if necessary.

"Mr. Pertucci, why don't you tell us about yourself," Mrs. Plum suggested.

She sounded the model of the perfect hostess, but there was something underlying in her voice that instantly put me on edge. Despite the fact that I was happy to have the suggestive expression off the old lady to my far left, I had a feeling the cross look she was shooting at her daughter probably didn't bode well.

"Stephanie and I work together at RangeMan," I began, reaching for my water glass and wondering how much more I should say.

"So you run around shooting at people like my daughter does," she replied, as though that were even remotely close to what we did for a living.

"Actually, it's been quite some time since I shot someone," I said in my defense, not entirely sure it made me look any better in their eyes.

"But you have to associate with people who have broken the law." She sounded as though she were speaking to me, but she was looking directly at Stephanie.

"I'm around people who have broken the law," I admitted. "Much like a police officer is."

At my mention of the police, her eyes snapped back to me. "Are you saying what you do is in any way the same thing as what a policeman would do?"

I couldn't help but laugh at that comparison. "No, I'm nowhere near a cop," I admitted, trying to picture my father introducing me to his associates if I were in law enforcement. "But I know most of them from working closely with them when there's someone they need our help to bring in."

"Have you ever worked with Joseph?" she asked, getting a sickeningly sweet sound to her voice.

"I've worked with Detective Morelli on many occasions," I admitted, hating the mention of him right now but unwilling to say something derogatory about him, because from everything I'd seen, he was a good cop.

"Mother," Stephanie interrupted before another question could come out of Mrs. Plum's mouth. "There's something you need to know."

Mrs. Plum reached for her wine glass and sat back with the hint of a smile, as though she knew exactly what Stephanie was about to say. "Anthony and I are getting married."

It made no sense to me that her mother didn't already know that. What had they been talking about in the kitchen while her father was fitting me for a water boarding plank? When I glanced at Mrs. Plum's face, it was obvious she hadn't been expecting that announcement.

"Married?" she repeated, as though the word made no sense. "Are you pregnant?"

"No!" Stephanie all but shouted back. To be honest, it stung a little that she was so emphatic in her denial of that as being a possibility. "We're getting married because we want to spend the rest of our lives together, not because we have to." That explanation softened the initial blow.

"But you were just dating Nick the last time we had pot roast," her mom pointed out, reminding us all that our romance, while overwhelming to us, had still only taken two weeks.

"Yes, but it had been crumbling before that, and I've known Anthony for three years now, so it's not like we just met," Stephanie explained.

"But…" Her mother seemed to falter before coming up with exactly what she objected to. "How will I explain to everyone what he does for a living?"

"He works in security," Stephanie responded. "How hard is that?"

Mr. Plum had obviously had enough. "Congratulations, pumpkin," he spoke up before pointing to the green beans. "I talked to him in the living room, and I think you two will be very happy together. I think he'd give up his life before he'd hurt you."

Stephanie seemed to melt at her father's words, and must have missed the way his eyes cut to my direction when he mentioned my death. Obviously, I needed to dig a little more into my future father-in-law's background. A person wasn't that at ease handing out death threats if he didn't have the knowledge of how to make good on his words.

"I suppose you're going to want us to pay for a big wedding," her mother blurted out, as though it was some burden they were being forced to bear.

"No," Stephanie jumped in this time. "I don't want you to do anything for our wedding. Once we get it all sorted out, we'll let you know."

I knew there was a fifty-fifty chance my next words were going to blow up in my face, but I felt like I had to offer something. "Stephanie and I haven't had a chance to plan what we're going to do, but it had been my hope that you would allow me to cover the full cost."

Stephanie looked at me, but instead of anger, I saw only confusion, as though she were trying to figure out what I was doing.

Her mother waved my offer away. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't possibly afford to pay for a wedding on what you earn."

"Oh, for goodness sake, Mother. You're embarrassing yourself, and you're making me mad," Stephanie told her. The anger that had been absent when she looked at me was now fully present and directed at the parent across from her. "I can't remember the last time we had a guest at this table with as much honor as this man. Insulting him is only making you look like a fool. We don't need your help with our wedding. Anthony is more than capable of taking care of us, and at this point, I wouldn't accept your help, because you'd just take over and ruin everything. I learned from the last time, and there's no way you're going to turn this into another circus."

"Does that mean you won't have to work once you're married?" her mother asked, sounding way too hopeful.

After making a less than ladylike growling sound, she let out a long breath and replied, "No, I wouldn't have to, but I'm still going to, so you may as well forget that line of thinking."

Another thirty minutes of awkward conversation later, I was beginning to feel as though they were coming around to the idea of me joining their family, and Stephanie finally announced we were leaving. It was abrupt, but no one seemed surprised, and when we walked to the door, Mrs. Plum followed us and handed her daughter a bag with what I assumed were leftovers. Since Stephanie didn't hesitate to take the food, I guessed that meant there was no chance it had been laced with something and this kind of blunt and aggressive conversation was typical here. She did manage to welcome me to the family and suggest we come back on Saturday because Valerie would be coming over with the kids and I should probably get a chance to meet everyone before attaching myself to Stephanie indefinitely.

When we got to the truck, Stephanie rolled her head back to lie on the headrest behind her. "You're going to run like hell now, aren't you? One meal with my ridiculous family, and you're already questioning why I bother going there and why on Earth you'd volunteer for that kind of thing, right?"

Her insecurity was touching, since I'd felt the same way after introducing her to my family. Electing to let my actions speak louder than my words, I leaned in, pulled her to me, and kissed her with everything I had. When I pulled back, it was only enough to rest our foreheads against each other. "I'm not going anywhere. Your mother is a good cook, your father adores you, and your grandmother welcomed me to the family and stopped clicking her dentures in my direction after you announced we were engaged, so I think the worst of it is behind us now. Honestly, there were no hired guns at the windows and no henchmen guarding the doors, so I can't tell you it's the kind of family dinner I'm used to, but I think we'd both agree my family is about as far from normal as you can get, so I have no frame of reference."

She seemed to relax a little at my words, so I sat back in my seat and started the truck. "Now, let's go back to your apartment, because I don't think in all my years I've ever heard someone stand up for me the way you did, and I'm feeling the need to thank you."

"Just how grateful are you?" she asked, finding a soft smile that melted me.

"Enough that I'm not going to fight you for the piece of cake I'm betting is in that bag from your mother, even though it had to be the best dessert I've ever eaten," I admitted, wondering exactly what it was. The balance of cake and fruity sweetness was perfect.

Stephanie groaned. "It was pineapple upside down cake, and it's my absolute favorite food. If you like it too, then she'll probably make it more often, but then I'll have to share it with you."

If it weren't for the fact that I could see the grin on her face, I might have been concerned about the words she was speaking. I decided to tease her right back, "Man, we aren't even married yet, and you're already trying to cut me off from the good stuff, aren't you?"

It was a miracle I managed to keep the truck on the road when she leaned across the console and whispered, "Get us home quickly, and I'll split the leftover cake with you. I'm even willing to let you eat your half any way you want it."

As much as I loved that dessert, eating cake was the last thing on my mind right now. I was going to feast all right, but it had nothing to do with the contents of that bag.

I knew my mother was expecting to hear about the night with Stephanie's parents. I wasn't sure how much of it I wanted to share, but it wouldn't be a stretch to say the evening had ended better than I ever imagined possible.


	21. No Longer Hiding

_Insert standard disclaimer here: not mine, no credit, no fame, no money, no fair. _

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for working on this chapter as the beta. Your skills make this a better story._

**Chapter 21 – No Longer Hiding**

"Zip?" Hal's slightly nervous voice sounded through the speaker phone on my desk.

"Yo," I replied, using RangeMan shorthand for _yes, I'm here and how can I assist you_.

"There's a woman at the front desk who is demanding to speak to either you or Stephanie. Bomber's not here, so I'm hoping you'll come and talk to her," he replied.

"Who is it?" I asked, uncertain as to why anyone would come in off the street and ask for me by name.

"She says her name is Annalise Pertucci, and first, she asked to speak to Anthony, but then when I told her we didn't have anyone here by that name, she gave me your name instead," Hal reported.

"Where is she?" I wondered, realizing the two worlds I'd worked so hard to keep apart were somehow colliding, and I was at a loss about how to stop it from happening. I figured this must be how it felt in that split second before impact when you know a car is about to hit your vehicle, but there is nothing you can do to avoid it.

"I put her in the conference room on the first floor," he answered, at least giving me the assurance that everyone in the organization hadn't seem my mother and begun speculating about who she was. Hal was pretty quiet, so there was still a chance I could keep this contained. He burst that bubble when he kept talking. "She's got a pretty big security detail, so only two of them went in with her, and the other two are standing outside the door."

Whoever was working monitors had definitely noticed that, and since any conversation that spurred my mother to drive up to Trenton instead of calling promised to be lengthy, I knew there was no way for this to escape the notice of the guys. I was screwed. "I'll be down in a couple of minutes."

I picked up my cell phone and hit the speed dial for Stephanie, waiting to hear her voice answer.

"Hey, Anthony. What's going on?"

"My mother is at RangeMan, asking for you," I told her, hearing the panic in my own voice and knowing it was being heard by Stephanie, as well.

"Did she say why?" Stephanie followed up with a perfectly reasonable question. "Is everything okay?"

"I don't know. I was just curious if you had any idea why she'd show up." Honestly, I needed to calm down, and hearing Stephanie's voice always had that effect, so I was hoping she'd work her magic.

"I'm at the station with Mooner," she told me.

She'd gone after one of the few skips that we'd agreed was safe for her to go after right now. I was hopeful I could stretch her recovery for at least another four weeks to indefinitely, but I knew better than to say that out loud.

"I can probably be there in fifteen minutes," she offered, finally giving me something to cling to enough to go downstairs and appear to be calm.

"Come in the main entrance, and if you see Dad's staff guarding the door, then come on in because we'll still be there."

We spoke for another minute until she said she was getting her receipt and would head straight back to the office. I made my way down the stairs, glad to run into a few of the guys, which gave me a legitimate reason to delay my arrival in the lobby. As I came out of the stairwell, Lester was coming into it. He glanced at the conference room door, being guarded by two big guys in non-descript black suits with hair greased back to stay in place.

He let his eyes go between the image at the door and to me several times before saying, "If you hadn't told me yourself, I'd never have pegged you as being a part of it. You just don't look the part," he joked, while keeping his words vague enough he hadn't betrayed my confidence.

"Thank goodness for small favors," I mumbled. "Stephanie hates greasy hair."

With that, Santos went upstairs laughing, and Hal looked at me as though I'd lost my mind. I had to give the guy credit, though; he didn't look the least bit intimidated by the firepower taking a position behind him. If he was uncomfortable, he certainly didn't show. The guy might be quiet, but he showed potential for being competent. Tank had been suggesting I partner with Hal some, which I'd completely avoided so far, but maybe after this, I might reconsider.

I walked up to the men at the door and held back a laugh as they attempted to stand taller or more at attention. The one at the doorknob nodded and said, "Mr. Pertucci," and then opened the door, indicating I should enter.

Before going through, I told him, "My fiancé will be joining us in a matter of minutes. Please let her in as soon as she arrives." My father had always taught me to be clear and polite when handing out instructions to the men that worked for us. It felt strange, but I knew it's how he would have handled it, so I followed his example, figuring it had to be right.

"Anthony," my mother called out as soon as I stopped talking to her security force. "I'm sorry to barge in like this, but I absolutely had to see you."

"Is everything all right?" I asked, seeing that she was definitely upset about something. My mother was always calm and in control. She was better at keeping her emotions in check than I was. Seeing her shaken over something was pretty big, and I was instantly on edge about what it was. "Is Pop all right?"

She waved her hand, as though my father were the least of her worries. Before she could explain, the door to the room opened once more, and Stephanie walked in, wearing her RangeMan uniform, identical to mine except she had only a stun gun on her hip and was missing the Glock, knives, and throwing stars where they could be seen like I had.

"Stephanie," Mom called out from where she'd stopped to greet me. "My dear, are you all right?"

I did a quick inspection of the woman in front of me and thought she looked exactly the same as she had this morning when we came to work together. Other than a small amount of what appeared to be jelly on her shirt, she was perfect in my eyes.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Pertucci," she attempted to assure my mother.

"Why don't you call me mom like Anthony does, or at the very least Annalise," Mom suggested. Then she moved to pull Stephanie into a hug, holding her even longer than she had me when I first came in.

"Is everything okay?" Stephanie asked, still in my mother's grasp. She looked to me over Mom's shoulder, and I had to shrug that I had no idea. "What brought you into our neighborhood today?"

That was what it took to shake Mom from her stupor. "If I adopted you, would it still be legal for you to marry my son?"

Stephanie and I looked at each other, and I realized she was going to make me lead the conversation to get to the bottom of whatever had my mother beside herself. "Mom, you're confusing us both – and, quite frankly, grossing me out with that marrying my sister comment – so can we sit down so that you can tell me what's going on?"

That was enough to finally assist Mom in letting go of Stephanie. Just to be sure we didn't have any repeats, I grabbed Stephanie's hand and led her to take the seat beside me on the opposite side of the small conference room table.

"I decided to call your mother and introduce myself this morning," Mom began by speaking to Stephanie. "We're going to be family, so there was no reason for me to wait on you two to organize a meeting."

"Was my mother rude to you?" Stephanie seemed afraid of the answer to her question.

I squeezed her hand to let her know it was all right, no matter what the answer might be.

Mom brushed off the question and said, "I told her who I was, who my son was, and that we were going to be family soon, and then I invited her to lunch. Helen seemed hesitant and refused to let me send a car for her, insisting she could meet me at the restaurant instead. The first few moments were pleasant enough, and then out of nowhere, once we'd ordered our meals, Helen began to apologize. I couldn't figure out what had happened, and then I realized she was apologizing for her daughter, calling her an embarrassment, and promising to work hard to get her into shape before any wedding took place."

I was suddenly pissed that we were in the conference room, because Stephanie was squeezing my hand so hard, I was worried she was cutting off the circulation to my fingers. I didn't mind bearing pain for her, but if we weren't in these ridiculous seats with the arms on the sides, I could have pulled her against me, and I knew she would have relaxed some.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," Stephanie spoke, her voice tight and hurt. "My mother and I don't see eye to eye on very much, so I'm sure she assumed you were there to talk about how you didn't see me as a suitable candidate to be Anthony's wife."

"My dear, the few days you two stayed in our home were the first times I'd seen Anthony smile in several years. He didn't fight with his father once, and for the first time since he left for the Army, I got a proper goodbye. He laughed, he talked, and he showed an interest in the family. As far as I'm concerned, you singlehandedly brought my son back to me. If anything, I worry that Anthony might not be worthy of you."

"Thanks for that," I bit out, understanding the point she was trying to make but wondering why it had to be quite so harsh.

"You know I love you, dear," Mom replied more out of rote than actual emotion. She addressed Stephanie once more. "By the time I finished having lunch with Helen, I wondered how you came to be the wonderfully well-adjusted and graceful young woman that you are, and I had to come over to let you know that at least as far as the Pertuccis are concerned, you're perfect exactly how you are. Simply perfect."

"Thank you," Stephanie whispered, quickly brushing away a tear that had fallen. "Thank you very much for stopping by to let me know that."

"Oh, my dear." Mom stood up and moved around the table, pulling Stephanie to her and holding her tightly. "Honestly, I came over here hoping that a few moments with the two of you would help me to see reason."

"Reason?" Stephanie pulled back to ask.

"I've got a small force with me today at Salvatore's insistence. It was all I could do not to order a couple of them to stay behind and teach her a lesson about insulting members of our family," Mom teased.

"She insulted Anthony?" Stephanie went from emotional to pissed off so quickly, I didn't even see the switch.

"No, my dear," Mom corrected. "She insulted you, and we absolutely consider you a part of the Pertucci family now." That helped Stephanie to ease off her temper slightly, giving Mom the encouragement to add, "And seeing how quickly you rose up to my son's defense, you obviously fit right in."

We visited for a few more moments before Mom announced she had some shopping to do and was going to head over to the mall for a while. "Is there any chance you might join me?"

The invitation was given to Stephanie, not me. It was a strange thing, because anytime before this very moment, I would have wanted Stephanie to say no. Going to the mall with my mother meant identifying herself as being associated with a mob family, which meant, by association, outing who I really was. My identity, which I'd worked so hard to protect for years, no longer mattered. Stephanie was hurt by her mother's actions, and getting the unconditional support from my mother seemed to make her feel better. My previous desire for privacy was nothing compared to my need to give Stephanie anything she wanted.

When Stephanie glanced over at me, I told her, "I've got a later day at work, so I was already going to miss dinner tonight."

"Are you sure?" she asked, obviously giving me the chance to give her any indication that I didn't want her to leave with my family. She was protecting me, even if it meant giving up something she wanted to do.

"Absolutely," I answered easily. "Is there any chance you'll take a credit card and do a little shopping from my account?"

"Not a single one," Stephanie replied sternly, basically threatening me to try taking over her spending only at my certain peril.

"Oh, my dear, we clearly need to spend some time together so that I can help you understand why it's always a good idea to take a credit card when a Pertucci man offers it," Mom teased, glad to see she was apparently about to have company shopping. "But it's no matter, because we are going to use my card today, and everything is my treat."

"No, you can't do that," Stephanie attempted to argue, not realizing the only woman more stubborn than her was my mother.

"I certainly can, and I absolutely intend to, even if it means buying it and having it delivered to your home," Mom threatened, making me smile. My family was harsh, perhaps dirty, and at times deadly to those who crossed us, but inside the unit, there was no denying our connection.

Ten minutes later, Mom and Stephanie were on their way to the mall, driving separately because Stephanie had some other errands to run once they were finished. I kissed them both, but admittedly, I lingered much longer with Stephanie's soft lips than I did on my mother's cheek.

I waited until the guys had pulled Mom's car around and secured her into it to turn back upstairs.

It was Hal's uncertain voice that called out to me. "So you knew her?"

"Couldn't you see the resemblance?" I asked, wondering why I was suddenly feeling freedom to tease one of the guys. When he still looked lost, I clued him in. "That was my mother."

"Is she a politician?" he followed up, obviously trying to account for the security detail.

Something about an all-Italian secret service force amused me, but I answered him anyway. "Nope, she's just married to somebody that is obsessed with her safety and has the resources to protect what's most important to him."

Then he pushed one too far. "Does that mean after you and Stephanie get hitched that she's going to have a detail of her own?"

"If she does, I'll be sure to refer them to you for advice on how to not fall victim to her charms," I answered, alluding to the first time he met Stephanie and she talked him out of his own stun gun before turning it on him in order to escape. With that, I turned back and headed inside.

When I stepped out, Zero called out to me. He was alone on monitors, so I took the seat next to him, willing to stare at a few screens instead of having to maintain eye contact with him while I waited to see what he wanted. After a brief moment of uncomfortable silence, he spoke up and asked, "Was that Annalise Pertucci?"

"Yes, it was," I confirmed, uncertain how he knew my mother's first and last name. She was often in the society pages of newspapers, but none of the guys around here struck me as the kind to look at that section of the paper.

"How does she know Stephanie?" He was obviously trying to get at something and wasn't coming right out with the direct question he wanted to know.

"She's my mother," I informed him. "What else would you like to know?"

"Your father is Salvatore Pertucci?" Zero asked, as though it would be easier to believe I'd just told him my father was Santa Clause.

"The one and only," I admitted, feeling like this was much easier than I'd ever imaged it would be. "Anything else?" I prompted when he was quiet.

"Why do you work here, then?" Zero asked.

Normally if I'd gotten a question like that, I would have assumed it was because the person I was talking to didn't think I was clean enough to work in an organization that tried to get crime off the streets. I guessed Stephanie's influence was having a greater impact than I'd originally assumed because I wasn't the least bit defensive when I replied, "I wasn't interested in working in the family business, and the benefits here were good, so when Ranger offered me the job, I took it. How about you?"

Zero did a double take, so I pointed back to the monitors as a reminder he was the one technically on duty here, not me. Apparently, he didn't realize my turnabout was a joke because he answered it. "My uncle offered me a job in his organization, but gun handling just wasn't on my list of perspective careers, so I turned him down and followed my old CO here. Besides, I don't speak Greek, which would have always put me on the outs with the rest of the family, so it was easier to do this than admit to what I didn't know."

This time, it was my turn to do a double take. "Your uncle is Alexander Ramos?"

"Yeah, he's my great uncle technically," he admitted quietly. "I figured everybody here knew and just didn't bring it up because they didn't want to admit to having any knowledge in case the feds ever took my family down."

"Your uncle isn't going to be taken down by the feds," I pointed out what should have been obvious to the guy next to me.

"So do the other guys know about your family?" he pushed.

"I've never hung up a sign or made an announcement, if that's what you're asking," I answered in lieu of the truth, which would have a been a big no.

His voice got a little harder then, as though I were stupid enough to ask a woman to marry me without telling her who she was getting mixed up with. "But Stephanie does, right?"

Just for that, I stood up, slugged him in the arm, and answered, "That's for asking such a stupid question."

As I walked away, I heard Zero call out, "Man, a simple yes would have worked. You didn't have to smack me."

Cal must have returned for his shift just in time to hear Zero complaining and smacked Zero himself. "That's for being such a pussy," he offered as explanation for the follow-up beating.

Why I always thought revealing who I was related to would mean having to quit work was a mystery all of a sudden, so I went to Tank's office and knocked on the door.

"Enter," he barked in his usual way.

"Just wanted to let you know you were right," I announced with no preamble.

"Usually am," he agreed, before blinking twice and caving. "About what exactly are you applauding my forethought?"

"My mom was here earlier," I began and then stopped when Tank's eyebrows jumped up half an inch. "She wanted to see Stephanie to apologize for the shitty way Mrs. Plum treated her daughter."

"I like your mom already." Tank grinned, gaining a few points in my book for standing up for my mother's instinctive response and for liking it when people were nice to Stephanie. As much as I wished to claim her as only mine, I knew most of the guys here would claim a piece of her as their own too, so being good to her was in essence being good to all of us, as well. "What does having a smart mother have to do with me being right?"

"I've always hidden who I was so that no one here would make the connection about who I'm related to," I reminded him of part of our conversation when I first returned to work. "I think it's time to relax and just let the chips fall where they may. I have a feeling I've been trying to protect my connections for no reason."

"I told you the guys wouldn't care," Tank reminded me. "They've worked with you long enough to trust you, and around here, that's all that matters – just like I said."

"Yeah, yeah." I brushed off his reminder that I could have saved myself a few years of worry and stress if I'd listened to him sooner. "I don't plan on making a big deal out of it, but I'm not going to go through the same lengths to hide it, either."

"Does this mean you're going to start talking now?" Tank asked with a straight face. "Because I kind of liked you better when you were quiet and kept to the shadows."

I raised my middle finger as a silent salute and walked out to the sound of his booming laughter. I wasn't promising I'd suddenly become one of the more verbose members of the team, but I was done hiding. Stephanie accepted me for who I was – in my entirety – and it was time for me to trust that the guys I never doubted to have my back in the field would follow her example.


	22. It All Comes Out in the End

_JE created the characters below._

_Jenny (JenRar), world's greatest beta, supreme cheerleader, and encourager extraordinaire, thank you for working with me on this story._

**Chapter 22 – It All Comes Out in the End**

Teenagers these days had no imaginations; it saddened me to think of the condition of the world once they became the leaders. My afternoon had flown by, responding to calls at various clients that had been bothered by various kids too stupid to find something to do with their time other than cause trouble. Of course, the benefit of their lack of imagination was that they never considered physical exercise to be beneficial, so chasing down someone literally half my age was simple and, if I were honest, a bit of an ego boost.

Bobby and I were on our way back to the office from what I hoped was the last alarm I'd have to respond to today. He'd thrown scissors when I hit rock, so he had to fill out the paperwork on this last call, meaning I might be able to get back to Stephanie's apartment in time to catch part of the game on TV.

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than both our cell phones began to buzz. I didn't even have to look to know something was wrong with Stephanie. My heart was beating twice as fast, and I was swallowing to keep my stomach from deciding it was a good time to reverse direction on me.

Bobby read off his alert, giving me the address at the mall. "How did somebody manage to blow up Bomber's car in a crowded parking lot?"

I had no answer to his question, but I knew that whoever had managed to do it was dead. I may have let Nick go in order to take care of Stephanie when she needed it, but a public threat like this couldn't go unpunished.

It wasn't hard to follow the plume of smoke and the sound of sirens to get to the crowd around Stephanie's newest explosion. Bobby had his medic bag in his hand, despite the rescue squad being on the scene. Honestly, I appreciated his preparedness. I knew she'd let him check her over a lot more completely than a random EMT.

We pushed our way through the crowd and were allowed to come through the secured parameter when the cops recognized our uniforms. From there, it was simple enough to follow the sound of her complaining that she was fine and that she didn't need to be checked out.

"Not even by your favorite medic?" Bobby called out, getting her attention on us and away from the medical personnel she'd been fighting.

"Anthony," she called out, basically ignoring Bobby, before gently sliding down from the gurney and walking slowly toward me.

I double-timed it and pulled her to me, trying to be gentle, because despite her assurance to the EMT, the way she was moving proved she was hurt in some way. My hands wouldn't stop moving once they landed on her. I was running them over her arms, across her shoulders, and down her back repeatedly. "Are you okay?" I finally asked, unable to trust that the solid feel of her beneath my hands was true.

"I'm okay," she tried to assure me. "I've got a few scrapes from the impact of the blast, but nothing is broken."

"Will you let Bobby look at you?" I asked and then realized this wasn't a time for playing it cool and added, "Please."

She made a sound, as though she was sure it was unnecessary, but nodded anyway and let me lead her back to the gurney she'd previously been sitting on. Bobby started at her head and worked his way down. When he got to her abdomen, she made a grimace, and his stress level went through the roof.

"I'm going to need to look at this," he warned her, moving to grip the bottom of her shirt. "Pain here is indicative of internal bleeding, and I need to see exactly what is going on."

"It's also indicative of recovery from surgery," she replied, sounding completely defeated.

I knew she wanted to keep what she'd been through a secret, but if I'd learned anything from her, it was that the guys at RangeMan were trustworthy and letting them know the things we seemed to think had to be held in the dark wasn't the chore it seemed like it would be.

"Surgery!" Bobby all but yelled. "What kind of surgery?" he asked, gently lifting her shirt to display the scar from my brother's work on her.

The bruising was still visible, but it had faded to a level I didn't really notice it anymore. Only here, looking with fresh eyes from seeing it from Bobby's point of view, did I remember how serious her injuries had been.

"Who did this?" Bobby asked, running his hand over the scar and pressing softly around it.

"My brother," I replied, seeing that Stephanie wasn't sure how to respond. She was willing to piss off the guy she'd always trusted with her health in order to help me hold my secrets. "Stephanie needed emergency help a few weeks ago, and I took her to him because he's a qualified surgeon with experience in the kind of injuries she had."

"I didn't mean who fixed her up," he clarified. "Obviously your brother is good; the scaring is perfectly smooth, and there was no pull on the stitches while it was initially healing. She was well cared for."

I knew my brother was good, having been on the receiving end of his skillful hands before, but it was still good to hear it confirmed from another source that I trusted.

"I meant, who hurt you?" Bobby asked, holding Stephanie's gaze, making it clear he wasn't going to let her back out of answering him. When she paused, he prompted her once more. "Based on this, I'd say you've lost your spleen, so we'll have to watch for internal bleeding more carefully from now on. And the bruising here is indicative of broken ribs. Since your face and legs are fine, it makes me think somebody hit you – hard...and repeatedly." When he finished talking, the gentleness of his hands was contrasted to the way his jaw was working from side to side. Bobby was a good medic, but he was a fierce soldier too, and at the moment, the fighter in him wanted someone to pay, and pay now for what she'd been through.

"Nick," she confessed in a voice so small, I nearly couldn't hear it.

"Oh, Bomber," Bobby replied in an equally tender tone, lifting a hand from her side to cup her cheek.

As he was obviously giving her pity for what she'd been through, I watched her face transform from shame and discomfort to something harder and more resolved. Just before I asked what was going on in her head, she spoke up and saved me the trouble.

"But don't worry, Anthony took care of Nick."

Bobby's head snapped around to look at me. A raised eyebrow let me know he was curious what she meant.

"He won't hurt her – or anyone else – ever again."

A nod followed by a wicked smile told me he approved of that announcement. Having cleared up the past, Bobby pulled her shirt back down to cover the scar. "I don't see any evidence that there are new injuries, but if you got knocked over from the blast, on top of what you were already recovering from, you're going to be sore for a few days."

Then he spun around and said, "The little milks, right?"

Stephanie crossed her arms and smirked in my direction. When we left my parents' house, Vincent reminded us that Stephanie wasn't to lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk for the next six weeks. Since I knew she often drank milk or poured it over the cereal she sometimes munched on at the office, I purchased the small paper cartons in the size kids get at school, wrote her name on them, and stocked the fridge in the breakroom so that she wouldn't have to pull out the gallon Ella kept on hand for the guys. Stephanie and I had gone around several times with what she called my overprotectiveness. I saw this as something I could do to watch over her and refused to be talked out of it. She swore it would cause the guys to ask questions, and I was equally confident they would keep their mouths shut. Obviously, she was right, but my pride refused to let me admit it, so I just nodded at Bobby and watched him shake his head, probably mentally laughing at my expense.

By the time we'd worked through all of this, we were surrounded by black uniforms.

When Ranger arrived on the scene, he got us back on track by walking up to Stephanie, kissing the top of her curls, and then asking, "Any idea what happened?"

"I was shopping with someone," she began, still keeping my family out of the equation, "and stayed behind to grab a coffee at the food court. When I came out, I noticed a puddle of something on the ground, but I didn't see anything leaking, so I got in the car, turned the key, and noticed the gas needle barely moved. I knew something was wrong because Anthony keeps my car full of gas, so there was no way I was practically out. Knowing something wasn't right, I got out of the car and started to walk away, and when I heard a loud click following by a series of faster, softer ticks, I took off running in time to clear the scene before the huge boom told me I'd lost another car."

I'd been trying to stand back and let Bobby tend to her scrapes and Ranger be in front of her to handle the RangeMan response, but hearing her start to get upset at the end of her story and realizing it was only her fast thinking that basically saved her life, I couldn't stay away anymore. I moved to stand behind her, drawing her back to my chest and swelling with pride when she melted against me and let out the sweetest-sounding sigh.

"Any ideas who would do this?" Ranger followed up, not sounding like he held out much hope that we'd get a lead that easily but knew it was protocol to ask anyway.

Stephanie shook her head and then stopped suddenly – a fact that wasn't lost on any of us.

"What is it?" I prompted.

"The gas line," she repeated part of her story. "The day you picked me up, someone had cut my gas line. I'd been at Nick's place, so I just assumed he had something to do with it, but what if he didn't do it and this is related to whoever cut it the first time?"

"That's a good idea," I assured her and then noticed that while Ranger was willing to wait for us to have our sidebar conversation, he wasn't pleased to know someone had tried to hurt her earlier and we hadn't notified him or followed up on a potential threat.

"At the time, Nick was the more immediate danger," I told Ranger, wiping the irritation off his face with that reminder, "and it did seem too much of a coincidence to think she had two different people gunning for her at once."

"Nothing with her safety is a coincidence," Ranger announced, as though trying to impress something important on me. "Everything gets logged in her file so that we have every possible lead recorded in case something like this happens."

Getting his point, I decided not to argue the point that I didn't need his help to protect my future wife. Clearly, I needed all the help I could get, and I knew it would just piss off Stephanie.

Ranger continued, "But hearing the story, they were probably related, even if it wasn't Nick directly that cut the line or had it done. Did he have any close friends or business associates that owed him a favor or might have been acting on what they thought were his best interests?"

Stephanie lifted her head and looked at me. I could tell she was thinking about everything Nick had confessed while we had him at the cabin at my family's compound. I wasn't going to hide who I was, but I also wasn't going to open my family's business up to everyone standing around watching us.

"There are some people I can follow up with," I told him, holding eye contact after I stopped speaking, hoping he'd take the hint this wasn't official RangeMan business anymore.

He nodded, obviously getting the message. After handing out a few follow-up assignments, he dismissed everyone, and the crowd thinned to just Les, Bobby, and Ranger. "You have a way to get to the bottom of this?" the boss asked, this time holding my gaze.

"I've got somebody that may have some information," I replied, still playing this close for now. "I'll give him a call and see if he has any suggestions. Once I hear back, I'll let you know."

A nod was all I got before he left. As far as I was concerned, that was approval of my plan and a wish for good luck.

"You need some backup?" Les asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet in an attempt to channel his excess energy.

"Not yet, but I've got you on speed dial," I reminded him, getting a fist bump in return before he turned to walk away.

When I turned my attention back to Bobby and Stephanie, I realized he was giving her instructions to use Advil for any aches and pains over the next couple of days and to check in with him in the morning. Then he leaned over to hug her, dwarfing her against his much larger frame. I could tell he was whispering something to her, but the smile on her face assured me it wasn't something I needed to worry about.

"You handled that really well," she complimented after Bobby disappeared.

"Did I?" I questioned, unsure which part she was referring to.

"Yeah, you didn't yell or scream about the explosion, and when all the guys were touching me, you didn't get all caveman and freak out," she clarified.

I could be a very possessive man, but something had shifted in me today, and I wasn't feeling as uptight as I sometimes did. Everyone that had touched her had done so with respect, and I hadn't been threatened at all because after each person had spoken to her, she had reconnected with me in some small way. I wasn't sure if it was intentional on her part or just a natural tendency to want to be close when we were together, but I appreciated it because it seemed to remind everyone that while she loved them all, she was mine, and mine alone at the end of the day.

"You're going to call Uncle Guido," she guessed about my next step.

"Yeah," I confirmed, pulling her tightly against me once more. "I need to find out if he got any names from the family he was contracted with to keep you busy so I can go to them and see if this is something they were doing or related to his agreement with them in some way."

She nodded and then yawned, bringing up my instincts to take care of her first, no matter what. "Come on," I told her. "We can pick up some takeout and carry it back to your apartment and stretch out on the sofa to watch the game while I give my uncle a call."

"You aren't going to do it privately and then tell me what I need to know?" She sounded surprised.

"Is that what you want me to do?" It seemed foreign to me that she wouldn't want to be included along the way. "I thought since this related to your safety, you should be there to get all the information too, in case I miss something."

With no warning, she spun, reached up, and kissed me fiercely. After she pulled back, I was more than willing to skip the takeout portion of the evening in order to get back to the privacy of the apartment quicker. I was about to suggest it when I got the feeling that I was being watched. Years of experience taught me to never ignore that kind of feeling, so I hugged her against me to shield her body with mine while I scanned the area, only to see a lone figure in black walking toward us.

When Zero got close enough to speak without being overheard, he asked, "Is there anything I can do to help with the follow-up here?"

Having talked this afternoon about the fact that we both came from mafia families, I knew he was basically asking if the Ramos family could be helpful in some way. "No, I need to follow up in my own organization first, but if this turns out to be a bigger thing, then I may need you to reach out on our behalf."

"Anything you need, you only have to ask," he promised, holding his hand out, not to shake in the usual way, but allowing me to grasp it higher; palm to palm, wrist to wrist, hand over hand as a symbol of his pledge. It felt strange to use the behaviors of my family in the setting of RangeMan, but for the first time ever, I felt like it was possible to exist in both places, loyal to both without denying the influence of either.

After Zero left, I guided Stephanie to the truck, waiting for the questions that I knew would follow. He hadn't told me not to say anything, so when she asked, "What was that?" I didn't hesitate to share who he was related to and why he was at RangeMan. By the time I was done, we were on our way to her place with the smell of marinara filling the truck.

"I swear, every day the world gets smaller," she commented, not the least bit thrown by what I'd told her.

"True," I agreed. Then I realized that she had her purse with her but nothing else. I knew my mother well enough to know that Stephanie hadn't left the mall empty-handed, so I asked, "Did Mom have your stuff delivered to the apartment?"

She sucked in a huge breath and then covered her mouth with her hand. "No, I threw all the bags in the back seat before I got on the ground to look at the puddle, and then when I was running away, I forgot to grab them. They're all gone."

I was flooded with relief that she'd forgotten them and not turned back to get them out. Those precious seconds allowed her to get far enough away to remain alive.

"What is your mother going to say?" she asked as we stepped out of the elevator and approached her front door, obviously concerned that she would somehow be on my Mom's bad side.

I opened the apartment, not bothering to ask for a key – just picking my way past her locks – and swung the door open for her to follow me in. As soon as we got to the couch, I realized her question didn't need an answer. There, covering the sofa, coffee table, and easy chair were stacks of bags from the higher-end stores at the mall. How my mother had pulled that off, I had no idea. But on the back of the couch was a note, folded in half, with Stephanie's name on it. I pointed to the paper and advised, "If you want to know what she will say, I suggest starting there."

Stephanie grabbed the paper and read aloud. "I heard about the horrible incident at the mall. Salvatore assured me you would be protected from now on, so I decided to stay out of the way and do something a bit more useful instead. I contacted each of the stores we visited and had them send over everything I could recall you looking at. It is more than you allowed me to do while we were together, but I hope you will accept it as my token to help you redeem the day."

Not wanting to intrude, I moved to the kitchen and busied myself pulling out the subs we'd ordered to give her a moment to look over everything Mom had sent over.

"There is no way I'm keeping all of this," she announced, moving to stand in the middle of the bags. "There's stuff here I never even looked at."

I handed her the tray with the food on it and quickly moved everything off the sofa so we could sit down. "You may as well give up and accept it. If she finds out you sent it back, she'll keep sending you stuff until she finds something you allow her to give you. Unless you want regular deliveries, my suggestion is that you call her tomorrow, say thank you, and move on."

Despite my advice sounding perfectly reasonable to me, I could see that Stephanie wasn't buying it. Her eyes were moving over the bags one by one, cataloging and judging what she might want versus what she wouldn't keep. Seeing that I'd lost her attention, I turned on the Rangers' game and sat back. Dad always said he and Mom were happy together because he learned how to tell the difference between when she wanted him around just to have him close and when she wanted him around because she wanted to be with him. They used to sound identical to me...until this moment, when I realized she wanted me to be next to her on the sofa, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.

By the time the game was over, she was sitting on the floor, carefully dividing the bags into two stacks. I knew one was to keep and the other was to go back, but I intentionally didn't ask which was which.

"Oh man, your mom got me stuff from Victoria's Secret," she announced, breaking the comfortable silence that had been between us.

"You two were shopping for lingerie?" I couldn't stop myself from asking. Somehow, I couldn't picture my mom and my fiancé going through racks of underwear together, talking about what they liked. Quite honestly, I preferred to picture my mother as a basic cotton granny panty kind of woman just because the idea of my parents going at it made me want to hurl.

"No, we didn't even go in the store, but there's a whole bag of stuff here," she explained, lifting a rather large pink bag that I knew came from that store.

"Do I get to vote for whether or not to send that back?" I asked. "Somehow, I think the idea of us getting it on with you wearing something my mother picked out will keep me from fully engaging."

She laughed at my comment and rummaged around in the bag for a moment. The second her expression shifted, I knew I was in trouble. She pulled out an outfit that was black and was primarily sheer, with just enough silky material to hold it together and cover only the most intimate parts. Without any prompting, I could see Stephanie's curves filling it out, and my body was more than on board with running away with that image.

"Are you sure you won't be able to fully engage if I wear this?" she taunted me, pulling herself up on her knees to lay the outfit against her shirt to help my fantasy take over.

"On second thought, I'm going with my original opinion of keeping everything. I won't know if you're wearing something she picked out or not, and right now, I'd really like to see that on you to know if it does justice to your body," I answered, trying to lure her to the bedroom.

"I don't know why I bother... It just ends up on the floor anyway," she pretended to complain as she stood up, still holding the nightie.

Taking the material from her hand gently, I realized there was nothing but a small string connecting the front and back at the crotch. With that discovery, I encouraged her to put it on anyway. "I think if we get creative, we can figure out how to get the maximum mileage out of that outfit without taking it off."

Stephanie kissed me before moving to the bathroom and pushing me in the direction of the bedroom while telling me, "I'm game if you are, but I want yours on the floor when I come out. I'm not feeling creative enough to make up for us both wearing clothes."

I knew that before the night was out, she'd be naked too, but I was up for the challenge of trying to maximize her pleasure while working around that single article of clothing. There was no way I'd admit to appreciating my mother buying lingerie, but I'd find a way to thank her for the thought.

As I was running through the right way to express my appreciation for the surprise of all the packages without singling out this one, Stephanie appeared in the doorway with nothing on but the see-through nightie. And that was all it took to be sure that for the rest of the night, I didn't think of my mother again.


	23. Taking Care of Loose Ends

_I did not create the Plum Universe below. All the credit for that goes to JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for staying awake through the night just to beta my chapters._

**Chapter 23 – Taking Care of Loose Ends**

I stepped out of the shower after my workout and looked around the apartment I considered to be mine. It almost seemed wrong to keep it when I knew a couple of the guys wanted a place at the office and I wasn't sleeping here anymore. Sure, it was convenient to have a private place to shower and change after my morning time in the gym, but it was wasted for the rest of the hours in the day. I could accomplish the same thing with a locker in the room beside the shower downstairs. Maybe after Stephanie appeared on five, I'd talk to her about it. I didn't want to presume anything and make her uncomfortable, but since I took her to my parents' house, we hadn't spent a night apart, and based on our whisperings during the night last night, our wedding might happen sooner rather than later, which would imply we'd have a permanent living arrangement of some sort presently.

I'd finally gotten up my courage to tell her what my father had suggested for a wedding orchestrated by my mother and then tried to stay quiet as she worked through all the emotions that brought up. The immediate panic of so many people watching us morphed to frustration that there was no way to shut out both our families completely and then finally acceptance that a small, immediate family only party might be all right as long as we could control when it happened. It was that final stage that gave me the courage to ask what she wanted in a wedding and when she thought she might want it to happen. I'd expected her to tell me that a long engagement was fine with her, that since our romance was pretty whirlwind, it made sense to not rush straight into the actual marriage. I didn't really like that option but was willing to accept it for her.

Instead she shocked me by saying if she had her way, we'd sneak off this weekend and elope, then come back and announce we were married. When I asked why she wanted a quickie ceremony, she had a well thought out answer. "It's not the ritual that makes a marriage. I want to be your wife – plain and simple. I'm tired of people asking if we're sure we're ready for such a big step. I think if we get married and then just tell them we've done it, they'll come around a lot quicker and stop asking so many questions about the timing. And since I have no doubts at all that it's the right thing to do, I don't feel like I should have to wait just to appease the people who are watching us to see if we really make it to the altar."

"But this weekend," I prompted, searching my mind to see if I felt rushed and realized it sounded perfect to me.

"Yeah, I've already got plans tomorrow, so we'd have to wait until Friday. I guess the weekend is as soon as we can pull it off," she explained, giving me a bit of a boost that she'd marry me even sooner if our schedules would allow it.

We'd celebrated, having loosely made plans to head down to Atlantic City, and then collapsed into sleep. In the light of the day this morning, I was still excited but wondered if after sleeping on it, Stephanie might have changed her mind or decided to postpone past the twenty-four hours we'd set for our departure.

That thought filled me with a new sense of dread. I couldn't get married in twenty-four hours. There were two huge items left unresolved that meant I couldn't begin a life with Stephanie just yet. I couldn't ask her to trust me to keep her safe for our life together if we married right after her car exploded and I hadn't gotten to the bottom of who tried to kill her and dealt with it. That was the most important thing.

The second thing that had to happen was that I needed to have a little chat with my future mother-in-law. I got that Stephanie didn't feel that she could cut off ties with her mother, but I wasn't going to just sit back silently with regular visits to their house for her to abuse my wife. I needed to set the expectation and make things abundantly clear about how Mrs. Plum was going to treat the most important woman in my life.

Knowing I had a few hours before my shift started, I moved to the living room and sat on the couch to start marking things off my mental list. Three rings on the phone, and then my father's voice came through.

"Anthony, my boy. What can I do for you?"

"What makes you think I'm calling because I want something?" I asked, finding his greeting strange.

"You never call me, so I assumed something came up that caused you to reach out. Usually when something like that happens, there is a need associated with it, thus your call."

Damn, I hated to lose to sound logic.

"You heard about Stephanie's car yesterday?" I began, knowing my mother would have told him.

"Yes, you do not need to worry," he replied calmly. "I doubled your detail and put them all on Stephanie."

Eight men were currently watching over my future wife. Something told me I'd be hearing from her later about that. Even by my over-the-top standards, that was excessive. "I need some information."

"This relates to the bomb?" His lighter voice was gone, and he'd easily slipped into business mode. Usually, I resented it when he flipped the Don switch with me, but since it served my purpose, I wanted him in a frame of mind as ruthless as possible.

"The day I first discovered what her former boyfriend was doing to her, it was because her car broke down from a cut gas line," I told him. "Did you get any information from Nick after I left the cabin that would lead you to believe he still had the backing of a family?"

Seconds of silence passed before he spoke again. "No, but the Grizolli family was the one that brought him to Trenton, so I can make a call and see if they have any information."

My first instinct was to say no, that I would deal with this, but I recognized that Pop would get a lot more information than I would from them, so I gave in. "Can you let me know as soon as possible if you get anywhere?"

"Give me half an hour," he offered and then hung up.

Stephanie had been complaining about men just ending calls with a dial tone. She'd accused my gender of being incapable of saying goodbye. Evidence appeared to be on her side, as I'd always considered my father's manners to be impeccable and he'd just hung up on me.

Seeing that I had some down time, I picked up the phone and dialed the Plum residence. The voice I most didn't want to hear answered, and I was forced to speak to Stephanie's crazy grandmother.

"Is Mrs. Plum at home?" I asked, hoping I could get passed along before she realized who I was.

Mrs. Mazur hooked my gag reflex with a single sentence. "No, hot stuff, she's at the grocery store, but I'm here and would love to hear you talk some more."

I pushed through my discomfort in the hope of catching her at home so I didn't have to repeat this ordeal again. "Do you know when she might be home?"

"Helen will be back at a quarter after ten," she reported with such accuracy, I couldn't let it go.

"Are her shopping trips usually that predictable?"

That got a laugh from the older woman. "Everything Helen does is predictable. If it isn't, it throws her off and she has to iron and sip whiskey until her world rights itself again."

I couldn't help but laugh at the brutal honesty evident in that answer. "In that case, I'll try calling back around ten thirty. Will that be a good time in her schedule?"

Mrs. Mazur found my sarcasm amusing and replied, "Make it ten forty-five so she'll have gotten all the gossip she learned while she was at the store out of her system. She won't listen to a thing you say until she's told me all the news. But don't call after eleven or you'll be in her lunch prep time and she'll only half listen to you then."

"Got it," I assured her, mentally reviewing the time so I didn't screw it up. Mrs. Mazur had stopped laughing, which made me thing that despite the ludicrous sounding rigidity of the things that needed to be worked around, the information was worth remembering.

While I was attempting to set a mental appointment for a call back, she broke through to ask, "Does this have anything to do with my granddaughter?"

"Yes," I disclosed, slipping back into my short response habit.

"Then, don't forget to call. If you don't set the rules right away with Helen, you'll miss the chance to ever set them. It's about time somebody stood up for my granddaughter, and I knew the moment I saw you that you had the potential for being the person to do it."

"I don't want to cross a line, but she can't spend all the dinners we are going to have together insulting Stephanie," I explained, wondering why I was confiding so much in this woman I was convinced was certifiably crazy.

She seemed to approve of my plan, which had the strange result of hardening my resolve to speak with Mrs. Plum. "Good."

Less than a minute after we ended our call, my phone rang again. "Hey, Pop."

"Vito sends his congratulations on your upcoming wedding," he began, letting me know he'd gone straight to the head of Grizzoli family.

"Did he have any other information for you?" I hoped there was more than that, or my single hope for a lead was wasted.

"Today during the lunch hour at Tatiana's, there will a man in a blue suit wearing a pink shirt eating at the counter. In addition to having bad taste in menswear, he is loosely associated with Vito's organization, but they are sending him there with no back up at all and will turn a blind eye during this period of time."

I can't believe I'd doubted my father would come through.

"According to Vito, this person was closely associated with Nick and regularly earned some extra money doing his dirty work. They knew he had intentionally hurt a firefighter that Nick served with so that Nick could come on at the department full-time quicker than usual. They had recently heard some murmurs when Nick seemed to have skipped town that he had already paid his associate for one other job, which they suspected was related to Miss Plum, but they have no police worthy evidence of that fact. This individual was bragging that after pulling off his objective, Nick would be in his debt, and then he'd be calling the shots in their plans for the future."

What my father wasn't saying was as telling as the words he spoke aloud.

"I'm going to share this with some of the guys I work with, and we're going to take care of this person RangeMan-style." Fortunately, because of the code around here regarding protecting Stephanie, RangeMan-style and my father's style were identical.

"You will call if you need my assistance in this matter?" he asked, obviously willing to finish it off if that's what I wanted.

A month ago, I would have gotten mad at him for continuing to put his nose in my life, but I guess I was beginning to soften some after being around Stephanie. "I would call if I needed backup, but we've got this covered."

"The people you work with," he ventured once more, "they will help you to protect Stephanie?"

"They'd give their lives to save hers," I assured him, knowing it was true.

"It doesn't sound like a business," Pop pointed out. "It sounds more like a family."

"In some ways it is," I had to concede.

"You accept that family, but not your own?" he pushed, making me look at how RangeMan operated and admit that it some ways it bore a striking resemblance to the mob. We didn't treat the law as optional the same way my father did, but the sense of honor, loyalty and justice was certainly there.

"Maybe it's working here that helped me to see the good in what you do," I tried to admit he was right without really using those words. If Stephanie were listening right now, she'd be rolling her eyes at me.

We spoke for a few more minutes until I heard someone announce that Alexander was waiting to meet with him. "Thanks for your help, Pop."

"My boy, having you come to me for something is thanks enough," he assured me, and then we both hung up.

I cracked my neck and saw I still had some time before I could call Mrs. Plum, so I decided to let a few people in on my lunch-time plan.

The core team was just coming out of the small conference room on five, so I walked over and asked if I could have a moment of their time before they broke up. Without question, they each turned back and returned to their seats around the table.

"Something on your mind?" Ranger prompted when I shut the door.

"I spoke to my father, who got in touch with Vito Grizzoli. According to Vito, the man that blew up Stephanie's car yesterday will be at Tatiana's at lunch today, wearing a blue suit and pink shirt. The Grizzoli family is sending him there unprotected and are willing to turn a blind eye to anything that might happen to this associate in their organization."

"This guy tried to kill Stephanie?" Bobby asked.

"I can't give you prints and video footage," I felt the need to clarify. "But according to the family, he'd been running his mouth and had been paid by Nick to do some dirty work for him. They are sure that getting rid of Stephanie was the last assignment Nick had given him, and unless we intervene, he's going to keep trying because he's under the delusion it will give him some power over Nick."

"Is he expecting us?" Tank asked, smart enough to know that when things looked too good to be true, they usually were.

"Not specifically, but if Vito commanded him to be at this restaurant at lunch, then he has to be expecting something."

"I've never been to Tatiana's. What's it like?" Santos asked, obviously moving on to strategy, which suited me just fine.

"It's an Italian dive, family-owned, mob ties," I answered, giving him the general scoop. "There's a bar separate from the rest of the restaurant, which is where our guy will be."

"Think anybody will interfere?" Ranger followed up, obviously on board, as well.

"No, he was specific that for this hour, there would be no protection offered," I assured them.

"Then in that case, who's driving, because I am absolutely getting in on this," Lester announced and volunteered all at once.

"Are you asking for our help or requesting time off for personal business?" Ranger threw out, giving me a question that I felt was a test of some sort, but I wasn't sure what.

"I'm reporting what I found out as promised yesterday and seeing if this is something you want to include RangeMan in. If not, then I'll be needing an extra-long lunch hour," I answered, hoping that was what he wanted to hear.

"Oh, hell no," Bobby jumped in before Ranger could respond. "After seeing what that bastard did to her and knowing I missed my chance for a piece of the firefighter, I'm definitely getting in on this."

"As far as I'm concerned, this guy attacked RangeMan directly," Tank pointed out calmly. "No way I'm sitting back and letting somebody get away with something like that."

"Then it looks like you're going to have some company for lunch," Ranger summed it up, almost smiling when he said it. "Now, how far are we going to take this?"

If I had ever entertained the thought of doing this on my own, the enthusiasm from the guys around the table made it clear they were going to be a part, so I may as well accept their help.

We spent the next hour planning every detail before breaking up. We agreed to reconvene in the garage ten minutes before the lunch rush so I had time to still get some privacy for my phone call with Mrs. Plum.

This time when the phone stopped ringing, Mrs. Mazur greeted me by saying, "I love a man who is prompt. Doesn't need extra time to do what needs to be done, and doesn't botch it up by getting there up too early and ruining the timing. I'll bet that perfect sense of timing works well with my granddaughter too, doesn't it?"

"Mrs. Mazur..." I felt compelled to be brutally honest. "I have no idea how to respond to that. But the idea of talking about sex with you makes me slightly nauseous."

I had to hold the phone away from my ear when she started laughing, and I could hear her saying, "Oh boy, I like this one. If only I were a few decades younger." Then she screamed for her daughter to answer the phone and wished me good luck before hanging up.

"Plum residence, Helen speaking," she answered in a response so perfect, it made me think of the Stepford wives.

"Mrs. Plum, this is Anthony Pertucci," I announced myself.

"Anthony, thank you so much for calling. I had a delightful lunch with your mother yesterday. It was very unexpected to hear from her, but I'm glad she called. It gave me a chance to assure your mother that despite her rough exterior, I'm confident Stephanie can make a good wife for you."

"Mrs. Plum," I interrupted, seeing right away that she misunderstood my reason for calling. "I'm glad that you enjoyed meeting my mother, and honestly, I feel like I owe you an apology for her taking over your day unannounced. I know she can be a bit direct and difficult to say no to."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Plum was eager to disagree with me. "She was just doing what any good mother would do. She wants you happily married, so she was checking to be sure there was no reason why you and Stephanie might not be happy together."

"No, that was not her intent at all," I corrected her. "She wanted to get to know you because she absolutely adores your daughter and she wanted to welcome you into our family."

"Well, I appreciate the sentiment, but between the two of us, I think we both know Stephanie isn't standard wife material. So between now and your wedding, as a gift to you, I'm going to be working with her so that she's ready to accept the responsibility of being married."

The woman was absolutely delusional.

"Mrs. Plum, if you attempt to change your daughter, I will be very displeased." Damn, I sounded exactly like my father. "I love Stephanie very much and can easily picture us having a very happy life. But if you try to interfere by demanding she do things differently – or do certain things at all – and cause her a moment of unhappiness, I will not consider that a gift, but a threat to my happiness."

"Now, Anthony, there are things men don't think about when they picture a marriage. Those are the kinds of tasks I believe Stephanie needs to focus on," she had guts to continue pushing this, but guts didn't compare to the determination I had on my side.

I decided to switch tactics. "Let me put this a different way. Stephanie loves her family and is devoted to you. This means she regularly sacrifices her own happiness in order to come to dinner and sit there while you belittle and insult her on a weekly basis. Once we're married, I don't plan on letting her come to your house without me being with her. And if I have a reason to even suspect you are about to criticize her, I will immediately remove her from your presence."

"There's no reason for all that." Mrs. Plum's voice had lost some its previous bravado. "I'm on your side and only want to see her happy."

"Do you?" I challenged her. "Do you really want her to be happy?"

"Of course I do. It's what every mother wants for their children," she explained in a tone that made me want to believe her.

"Then you are going to have to accept that she is and, if that changes, trust that she will come to you with any concerns. Belittling her decisions over dinner only makes the food you worked so hard on taste bitter, and the only thing worse than bitter food is a dry meal. I know you don't want either of those things."

"No!" She paused and then added in a softer voice, "No, I do not."

"Good." I decided to end this while things were going smoothly. "Do you like chianti?"

"The wine?" she nearly squawked.

"Yes. It's one of my favorites, and Stephanie tells me you make a wonderful lasagna, so I hoped the next time we came for dinner, you'd allow me to bring some wine to go with it." Clearly, I was testing my father's idiom that you could catch more flies with liquor than vinegar.

"I'll make it for you this weekend if you'd like to come," she said, immediately jumping at the peace offering.

Knowing the plans we had already discussed for the weekend, I was hesitant to obligate us to that. "I think we are already committed, but I'm sure we can find a time for early next week." Hopefully, Stephanie wouldn't kick my ass for volunteering her for a tour at dinner again so quickly.

After we hung up, I realized I had used up more time than I'd thought I would for that conversation, so I quickly cleaned my gun and opened the weapons' safe in the bedroom of the apartment to fully dress for my lunch appointment. It had been a while since I had this much firepower on. It felt good, especially knowing I was doing it to protect somebody I loved.

Once this was all settled, I might end up owing my parents an apology. When I was growing up, I could remember yelling at Pop for the crazy amount of security he forced on us. He said he would gladly take my anger if it meant I was protected. Now that I was in a position to see how it felt to have my family threatened, I knew I would gladly face ridicule for building an electric fence around her apartment complex if it meant she could sleep secure at night.

My watch alarmed, telling me it was time to head out. I had a date for lunch, and there was no way I was going to miss this one.

Sometimes when things seem too good to be true, it's because they are. And sometimes, it's because you are just that good. When the five of us walked into Tatiana's, it was with a single purpose. I opened the door and walked in first, pausing only long enough to let the guys file in behind me. When the bartender looked at us, he nodded at me, set down the glass he'd been drying, and then walked out of the bar to the kitchen. I couldn't help but notice as we moved into the bar that there was only one man sitting there, and he happened to be wearing a blue suit and a bright pink shirt. Any man that would wear a shirt like that deserved to be punished, just for having the lack of skills to dress himself better.

Bobby swelled up to his full imposing size and blocked the exit of the bar. Lester and I flanked the idiot on either side of the stool where he was seated, and Ranger moved to tap the guy on the shoulder. Tank was directly behind Ranger, somehow managing to look about a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier than usual. When the man at the bar turned around, he took one look at Ranger and then glanced up at Tank before moving his gaze back to Ranger, stupidly assuming because he was smaller than the mountain behind him that he was the lesser threat.

"You were busy at the mall yesterday," Ranger said, his face giving nothing away.

"I didn't go _in_ the mall yesterday," he lamely replied, not denying being there, just disagreeing that he'd gone in.

"Your business in the parking lot caused some trouble for me," Ranger pressed on.

"I didn't mess with you," he spoke a little louder, making me realize why my dad was considered the chief among the mafia families. My family would never employ someone this brazen and dumb. "I had a little business with a girl there, but that's none of your concern."

"That girl belongs to us," Tank spoke, his voice so low and threatening, I could swear I felt the vibrations from his speech.

The guy's eyes moved nervously between all of us, looking for an escape route and coming up empty. I guess knowing he was in a corner caused his fight instinct to rear up. "She belongs to a buddy of mine, and I don't think he'd appreciate hearing that another group was trying to take her from him. He's got some powerful friends. You might want to take my suggestion and back off before you get hurt for associating with her."

It was all I could do to keep my mouth shut when he claimed Stephanie somehow belonged to Nick and then told us to back off. Apparently, Ranger didn't feel holding back was necessary. The only warning we got was a soft, "Change of plans," coming out of Ranger's mouth before he lifted his fist and hit the sweet spot on the guy's chin, knocking him out with a single blow.

As soon as he crumpled on the floor, Bobby moved over and glanced at his limp form. "Now see, I wanted to be the one to hit him."

"Wait, why do you get to hit him?" Lester jumped in. "I should get in a blow or two."

Tank chuckled at the argument between the two men in front of him and finally shut them both up. "If anybody deserved to be the one to throw that kind of hit, it was me. After all, you were using my size to intimidate him."

Ranger shook his head before looking at me and saying, "Your father may run a _family_, but sometimes, I swear I run an organization full of children who need a parent more than they need a supervisor." His sentiment bore an eerie resemblance to the conversation I'd had with Pop earlier in the day, so I chose not to respond.

"So now that we're off the page, what are we doing with the trash here?" I asked, feeling the support from the guys around me, not only for Stephanie, but for me, as well.

Tank bent over, put some cuffs on the guy's wrists, and then hoisted him over his shoulder as though he were a sack of potatoes instead of a poorly dressed Italian man. "We'll take him to the Batcave and finish the plan from there." Everybody smiled at the term for the safe house we'd agreed to use for the end of this little operation. Apparently, Stephanie's impact was everywhere at RangeMan, even in how we referred to our hidden property.

My phone rang as soon as Tank had him in the air. Normally, I would have ignored it, but Stephanie's number was the only one that would ring through the way I had it set, so I quickly answered, ignoring the guys standing there staring at me.

"Stephanie, is everything okay?" Perhaps it was the fact I was looking at the unconscious body of a man who had just tried to kill her yesterday, but hearing from her right now had me worried.

"I'm fine," she quickly assured me, before shifting to say, "But if you want me to stay that way, then you are going to have to call off some of the guys."

"What guys?" I asked, wondering what she was talking about.

"I wanted to go to Vinnie's to hang out with the girls," she started, putting me on edge already if she'd left the security of the apartment and gone out in an unsecured vehicle. "When I pulled out of the parking lot here, I noticed two black cars following me. Each of them appeared to have four guys in it. I thought it was major overkill to have eight guys watching me, but I figured your dad did it, so I tried to ignore them. While I was in the bonds' office, another van pulled up with four more guys in it. And when we tried to go out for some chicken for lunch, four guys I hadn't seen already ran in and cleared out the restaurant so that Lula and I were in the middle and there were sixteen completely silent men in suits glaring at all the windows, basically threatening anyone else to come in. The manager came over and asked if we'd mind leaving with our meal so that other customers could come in since it was the lunch rush. I apologized and dropped Lula back at Vinnie's before I just gave up and came home. You've got to get rid of some of these people. The president doesn't have this big of a security detail."

With every word, I could hear her anger growing, but when she got to the part about being asked to leave the restaurant, I could tell she was ready to hurt somebody.

"I'll call Pop and see what happened. I was aware of eight men being assigned, but not the full sixteen."

She gave me a few more comments that basically assured me there was no point in me coming home until I had some of the suits cleared off.

After I hung up, I couldn't help but notice all the guys smiling at me. "What?"

"You're in trouble," Lester started off.

"You've got sixteen men watching her," Bobby pointed out, muffling a laugh at the picture that had to have created.

"She's threatening you, isn't she?" Ranger pushed, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

"What you going to do about it?" Tank couldn't help but snoop.

"Once sleeping beauty here is eliminated, I'll call them off," I told them, refusing to smile despite the fact I could see the humor in the situation.

"May I make another suggestion?" Ranger asked, seeming to be helpful.

I nodded so that he would continue.

"Call them off, but have them stay on standby. This won't be the last time she's going to be in danger, and having a fleet of guards to pull from might prove to be a good thing."

"You can all kiss my ass," I replied, holding back the laugh, but letting the smile break free.

"Go take care of her, and let us take care of this," Tank suggested, pointing to the body on his shoulder.

"I can't ask you guys to do that," I tried to argue.

"You didn't ask," Ranger replied. "As far as my memory serves me, we agreed this was a threat to RangeMan, being handled with company resources on company time, which means, I'm your boss, and I'm telling you to go tell Stephanie she's safe."

Something in the way he said the words told me that it was absolutely what he wanted me to do, so I accepted their offer, knowing I could trust them to handle it the right way.

Just before I got to the door, I paused and turned only my head to say, "Thanks, guys. I know Stephanie will appreciate this, even if she never fully knows what you've done."

"We aren't just doing this for her, man," Santos spoke up. "We're doing it for both of you."

As far as I was concerned, Ranger had sold himself short. RangeMan was a family organization after all, and I was proud to be a part of it.


	24. Epilogue - One Year Later

_JE gets the credit for the characters below that she created._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for all your work cleaning up my chapters as the beta on this story. You are amazing, and I'm so lucky to be able to work with you._

**Chapter 24 – Epilogue…One Year Later**

"I don't think I can do this," Stephanie spoke from her seat on the end of our bed.

"Yes, you can," I assured her for at least the tenth time. "All you really have to do is stand there, and then when it's all over, you can just deal with people one-on-one, which you know you can do."

"I'm not worried about the one-on-one conversations; I'm worried about being in front of over four hundred people and doing something stupid to embarrass myself or you," she confessed, breaking my heart that for some reason, she hadn't realized she could never embarrass me. "How do you even know four hundred people?"

The last question was funny enough, I couldn't help but laugh a little at it. Sure, I was quiet, so it might seem strange, but in my family, an event like this meant every cousin, second cousin, and third cousin once removed would be there, which meant the church would be packed, and the party afterwards would be even more crowded. This was definitely going to be a long day.

"You've met a lot of these people at some point," I reminded her while trying to pick out the right kind of tie for this occasion.

"Yes, but never all at once," she countered, stepping in front of me with two choices to ring around my neck.

I went with the blue instead of the red. I thought it matched the suit a little better, and I wanted to stick with something that was classic without making me look like a Republican politician.

"No, never all at once," I had to agree. "Mom still hasn't gotten over the fact that we didn't let her do something like this for our wedding."

"I'm not_ letting_ her do it this time," Stephanie argued, but her voice held no heat. "She just announced she was doing it and didn't really give us much chance to disagree."

I couldn't refute that, so I let it go and sat down on the bed, where Stephanie had been pouting seconds before. My hope was that now that she was in the closet, she would go ahead and get dressed so that we wouldn't be late.

Sitting there, I couldn't help but think back over how much my life had changed in a single year. I'd gone from being the most mysterious and unknown guy at RangeMan to the one who most of the guys tended to sit around in the breakroom just to shoot the shit with. I went from a person convinced he was destined to live a life alone to having the chance to get to know the most amazing woman, and then being fortunate enough to make her my wife.

After finally getting rid of the threats she had amassed when we first hooked up, we decided to take the break in the stress level and elope. Having made the plans one night, twenty-four hours later, we were in front of a justice of the peace at a hotel owned by my father. I knew I could have access to the penthouse, which ensured the best of everything and complete privacy when I asked for it. With no crowds or interfering family members, we very simply promised to live our lives totally devoted to each other until death forced us apart. It was the easiest vow I'd ever made, and it made me proud to know that every day we'd been given together so far, I had honored those words.

After we'd returned to Trenton, we'd told her family, who were both thrilled to hear their daughter was married and relieved that it wasn't some kind of circus the 'Burg could make fun of. While things around Stephanie did occasionally turn out differently than planned, I couldn't stop myself from pointing out to Mrs. Plum that those kinds of comments were the kinds of things that would ruin a family dinner. She wisely piped down and didn't insult Stephanie – even subtly – for the rest of the evening. Since then, things have gone much more smoothly. It seemed like her mother was finally beginning to accept that I was in love with her daughter as she was and trusted that this was it for both of us. And she liked the wine I brought over for dinner every time, so she'd been particularly careful to stay on my good side of late.

My parents were a little more difficult. To the extent that it's possible for a grown woman who typically carries herself with impeccable grace to throw a hissy fit, that's exactly how my mother reacted. She was thrilled we were married and happy, but she definitely felt robbed when we told her we weren't going to repeat our vows in a church here to put on some kind of show for the family, and we weren't interested in any size gathering to celebrate; we just wanted to announce it as we came in contact with people and let it go at that.

It took a while, but Mom finally calmed down, and then we began to get invitations to dinner nearly every weekend for two and a half months. I couldn't help but notice each dinner had a different guest list, basically showing us off to the family a couple of dozen people at the time. It was only when Stephanie came down with a stomach virus that we were able to put an end to the parade of family dinners.

It took Stephanie two days to get over the virus. I felt horrible, unable to help her in any way but not willing to leave her side. Finally, the worst of it went away, but it became apparent that she wasn't gaining her strength back because her appetite was not returning. After a week and a half, I could see she was losing weight and threatened to put her over my shoulder and haul her to Bobby if she didn't go to see a doctor. My mind had gone down every worst-case scenario like stomach cancer or tape worms. It was initially a relief when she came home from the doctor and announced she wasn't sick, she was pregnant.

The relief had lasted about two minutes, and then the full impact of what she'd said kicked in. I was going to be a father. I had a partner to share my life with, and we were beginning a real family of our own. It was everything I'd envied of my parents that seemed so perfect until I was hit with the reality that I had to keep them safe. After Stephanie helped me put my head between my legs and take deep breaths – something I'd deny ever happened if someone asked – I'd been able to assure her the news was wonderful to me. Fortunately, she'd seemed to believe me and had then helped me out by expressing her own concerns about how we'd manage to raise a child and keep them safe with both our jobs and pasts. With her bringing it up, I'd been free to talk about it and not be seen as some overly obsessed security guy. Sure, she still told me I was, but I could always point to the fact that she was the one who'd brought up safety first. It was a small victory, but with a wife as sharp as mine, any victory was worth claiming.

Stephanie had struggled a little with morning sickness, but we'd managed to find some foods that were appealing enough to keep her eating until the thirteenth week, when it seemed to magically go away. It was at that point that I'd felt God was rewarding me for staying by her side when she greeted many days by running to the toilet and many nights by crying that she worried she wasn't going to be a good enough mother. After the initial hormones leveled off so that her stomach settled and her emotions stabilized, I'd been gifted with a whole different kind of hormonal effect. Something else I'd never admit to was that she'd nearly worn me out during that part of her pregnancy. It was as if she hadn't been able to help herself and anytime we were alone – and a few times when we weren't actually alone, just separated by a thin wall – she'd been all over me. Of course, only half a man would complain about having a sexy woman attacking him, but there had been a night or two when I'd faked late night calls just so I could nap at RangeMan for a few hours.

All too soon, I'd gotten an emergency page that Stephanie was in labor, and four hours later, our son had come into the world. Now that he was eight weeks old, we were on our way to the church I grew up in to have him christened. Of course, my mother had taken it upon herself to handle all the details so that Stephanie could just relax with the baby. Her altruism had been too good to be true, because with us out of the details, she'd managed to turn it into a full-scale family event, no doubt to make up for missing the opportunity at our wedding. After the service was over at the church, we were going back to the family compound for a party and dinner.

Stephanie's family and friends, along with all of RangeMan, had been invited, so them on top of the Pertucci organization that included my whole family and my father's closest business associates had given my mother a guest list of just over four hundred people – which was why my wife was on her fourth dress, complaining that nothing fit right anymore. Her comment was ridiculous because within the first month after the delivery, she had lost all the weight of the pregnancy. Sure, her breasts were bigger because she was nursing, but from where I was sitting, that only made her look even hotter in each of the rejected outfits.

Finally, I took pity on us all and walked into the closet, pulling out two dresses. "One of these will work."

Her eyes moved back and forth between the two options and finally landed on the lighter blue dress. It wasn't as tightly fitted but would still more than show off her figure. She slipped it on, finally regaining some of the calm I needed her to have in order for me to handle being around so many people. I might finally be opening up and returning to the man my parents raised me to be, but the idea of being surrounded by crowds of people all day was keeping me on edge, too.

Once we'd pulled ourselves together, I stood in the doorway and watched as Stephanie expertly dress our son, Stephan Francesco Pertucci, who today would be christened in the same outfit I'd worn thirty-four years ago. I liked his name because it was associating him more with Stephanie than me, and since she'd done all the work to give me this little miracle, I wanted to honor that in some way. We both wanted to honor her father, but Frank just wasn't going to happen, so we'd changed it to the Italian version of his name and finally had the hardest part of the planning to be a parent complete.

When she picked him up and kissed his head, I stood there in the doorway, mesmerized at how blessed I was. My mind was set that I in no way deserved what Stephanie and our son brought to my life, but I wasn't going to deny myself the gift that they were to me. It might make me selfish, but I preferred to think of it as being a challenge to become the man they deserved to have watching over them.

I'd changed in some ways after having a family of my own, and in other ways, I'd grown into the man that had always been there, just hidden under the surface. We'd bought a large house on a big plot of secured land about twenty-five minutes outside of Trenton. It had me close enough to work that the drive in each day was simple, and it got us closer to my family, which thrilled my parents. Stephanie also loved being out of the 'Burg and far enough away that she didn't feel anybody was constantly watching her as she adjusted to her new role as a mother. Of course, the staff we had to maintain the house and grounds and the security who worked at the front gate and around the perimeter were non-negotiable for me to even consider moving to a place with no immediate neighbors. Stephanie had been wise enough to realize I couldn't help myself and had allowed me to set up the state-of-the-art system monitored by RangeMan remotely and our staff of four guards on the ground simultaneously.

Vincent liked to joke that the size of the place we'd purchased was so big that it looked as though we were setting up a compound of our own so that I could easily take over when Dad retired. I still refused to see myself as his successor, but over the last few months, he'd begun to share more and more about his business dealings, and I'd found that I respected the way he ran things, so a truce of sorts had been established between us.

Pulling me from my thoughts, Stephanie placed Stephan in my arms and asked me to keep him busy while she got his overnight bag ready to go. Even though we were only half an hour from our house, we knew we'd end up staying in our suite since the party would no doubt go on until the late evening. I took my son and lifted him up to rest against my shoulder, allowing him to look around in his favorite position and giving me a chance to just breathe in that new baby smell, which I swore could give anybody an attitude adjustment. No matter how bad a mood they had been in, that scent of innocence just melted a person.

I'd felt it myself, and each time Stephanie brought him to RangeMan, I'd seen it happen with the guys when she plopped the baby in their arms and walked away. Sure, there was that moment of panic at being handed a baby, but when they worked past that, they usually relaxed quickly and seemed to enjoy holding him. Stephanie said she did it to socialize Stephan so he'd be comfortable around people. I teased that she did it to give me a heart attack when I'd come upstairs and see one of the guys who had no idea what they were doing trying to shift the position of my fragile infant child. So far, I hadn't made any progress in getting her to admit I was right.

The drive was quiet except for a few tiny noises from the back while Stephan was settling down to sleep. He was a lot like his mother, in that long rides and overly noisy settings tended to overwhelm him to the point of wanting to shut down and snooze. It made him an easy baby, so I wasn't complaining. Of course, my mother, who was absolutely taken with her first grandchild, kept telling us we weren't real parents because Stephan was making it entirely too easy for us and when we had more kids, we'd see what an unfair representation he was for real babies. I liked to think that it was the loving and calm environment we were raising him in that made the difference. Stephanie hoped I was right, but the pale color of her skin whenever my mother brought it up told me she was leaning more toward believing Mom.

There was a space reserved for us at Sacred Heart church, which was good because the parking lot was already jammed and we never would have been able to park this close otherwise.

Stephanie grabbed my hand after I pulled the keys out of the ignition and said, "Please don't leave me alone while we're at the church, okay?"

It was unusual for her to be so insecure, so I quickly promised I'd stay by her side the whole time and then reminded her we needed to go inside to meet with the priest and the godparents to review the service.

Luckily, Father Mark had been my family's priest for a long time, so I was comfortable with him baptizing my son. His gentle nature and obvious authority helped Ranger and Lester to relax beside Vincent and Isabella when it came time for the godparents to present the child in the service. We'd considered having the traditional two godmothers and two godfathers, but when it came down to it, we knew our child was going to spend a significant amount of time at RangeMan, and it didn't make sense to name someone just to keep the genders balanced. The real people who would be spending time with Stephan and helping us to shape him into the man he was meant to be were all standing at the font with us, and I knew we'd made the right decision.

When Ranger was asked to pass the baby to the priest to actually baptize him, I had to bite the inside of my cheek when he whispered, "Be careful; he's asleep," to Father Mark. Between the size of the parish and my family's own growth, he'd done literally hundreds of christenings. It amused me that Ranger still thought he needed to be instructed on how to handle a baby. Of course, it was that dedication to watch over Stephan that made him the most obvious choice for a godfather.

Lester was Stephanie's suggestion and one that I was completely comfortable with as well because of the way he never hesitated to help me when I called on him as Stephanie and I were initially spending time together. That kind of loyalty was an ideal trait in someone who was pledging to God they would watch over this child.

Of course, despite the fact that they weren't standing at the front of the church, there were three rows of men dressed in black that had come from RangeMan to celebrate with us. It wasn't like our son would have a shortage of people around to guide and protect him.

When Father Mark led us through the prayers for Stephan, I found myself biting my cheek for an entirely different reason. I wasn't worried about speaking up and ruining the moment; I was more concerned that the words from the priest would make me show emotion and I'd never hear the end of it from the guys at the office. My plan had been to use the pain in my mouth to overcome the emotion of the moment I hadn't been expecting. When I noticed Stephanie was standing there with small tears rolling down her cheeks, I knew I wasn't alone in this feeling. I put my arm around her in an attempt to comfort her and share in her emotions so freely expressed. Somehow, being closer to her helped me to feel like I was letting go of what I was trying so hard to bottle up.

Forty minutes later, we were done and Father Mark was pronouncing the dismissal. Lester was holding Stephan, and when I offered to take him back, I got a glare and a slight growl that I took to mean, _Nah__, I've got this_. It seemed like a better alternative than _Back__ off or I'll hold the baby with one hand and attempt to kick your ass with the other_. There was comfort in having worked around the same guys long enough to be able to read them that well.

Mom had put up the large marquee and turned the back couple of acres into an outdoor setting for an elegant party. For hours, people mingled, ate, drank and laughed. Even with my natural aversion to crowds, I could tell it was a perfectly planned event and could appreciate the time she'd spent planning.

As I was surveying the mass of people who made up our family either by blood or association, I felt Stephanie coming up behind me and link her arm with mine. Not happy with such limited contact, I turned so that I could pull her to me. "Where's Stephan?" I asked, realizing that on his big day, we'd held him very little.

"He just finished eating," she informed me with a lovely blush that told me she'd managed to sneak off alone and nurse him. "Maria saw me coming back downstairs and took him before I could even focus on her being near me."

"I think they like him more than us," I confessed, not blaming anybody for feeling that way.

Before we could get lost in our own little world, something that was always possible when we were together, Constantine came up. He shook my hand and offered me a token congratulations before kissing Stephanie on the cheek.

Uncle Guido noticed us together and moved to stand beside his son. "Enjoy today," he advised. "They grow up so fast."

Stephanie nodded, but I could see the pulling at the corner of her mouth and knew she was fighting laughter. As soon as we were alone, she burst out laughing. "I decided to say nothing, but all I could think was, of course you think they grow up fast; you went from being alone to being the father of a twenty-two-year-old son literally overnight."

After Vincent confirmed Uncle Guido was Constantine's father, he'd taken the role very seriously, making an effort to make up for missing his life up to that point. Attempting to set his absence right, he'd begun by having his son baptized, something that hadn't happened to date but was obviously very important in our family. It had given him a chance to officially mark the date he became a father and to change Constantine's last name to claim him for the family. He'd even had Stephanie and me named as the godparents for his son since it was because of our snooping that he'd discovered he had a family of his own.

There were a few tense weeks after Guido informed Constantine who he was related to and why. It wasn't until we were visiting for one of my mother's impromptu dinner parties that Stephanie took Constantine aside and let him know in no uncertain terms that he was too old to play the petulant teenager. When Constantine countered that his father had basically beaten him and that he owed him nothing because of that, Stephanie pointed out that he could consider it twenty years of well-deserved discipline rolled into one encounter. Sure, it was rough and difficult to endure, but considering how he'd lied about who he was, deceived our entire family, and then acted entitled, was he really worthy of a different kind of reception? After their harsh reality session, Constantine seemed to relax, and he and my uncle had begun to build a relationship.

Pop had made it clear that he couldn't come to work for the family directly until he proved where his loyalties lay, but if his brother wanted to introduce his son separately to the organization and give him something to do under Guido's oversight, he wouldn't stand in the way of that. For his part, from the moment Guido realized he was a father, he began to grow into the role, and he refused to let Constantine work, instead insisting he go to college. It took a few months of battles between the two of them before Constantine gave in and enrolled for the spring semester to major in pre-law. From the moment he brought home his first good grade, Guido had been bragging we would soon have a lawyer in the family. Fortunately, Constantine had stopped trying to control what his father said and had learned the art of silently enduring the loud opinions of an Italian family. I figured in another couple of years, he would fit in enough that we'd all forget he hadn't been raised among us.

I brought myself back to the present by remembering what my uncle had warned. "Do you think Stephan is growing up too fast?"

She shrugged. "Not at three in the morning." After considering it for a moment, she let out a breath before giving me a slightly better thought-out answer. "But in the middle of the night, when he's having a snack and the house is perfectly still, I wonder how much I'll miss that time when no one exists for him but me and I'm able to perfectly meet every need he has."

"Once he starts to get more independent, I'll still be looking to you as the person who meets all my needs," I tried to encourage.

"Maybe—" she smiled before moving on "—but once we get older and you have needs beyond that one major one, you may not find me as perfect, either."

"Bullshit," I couldn't help but disagree. "You know this has always been about more than sex."

"Yes, but you know we've always done sex really well," she countered, not willing to be pulled into a more serious conversation at the moment.

"Really well?" I repeated with an eyebrow raised as a challenge.

"If you want another really thrown in there, you're going to have to refresh my memory," she took my bait. "I just fed Stephan, and there's more than enough willing volunteers to keep him occupied that you could have at least an hour to try to increase the adverb usage."

"I'll give you five minutes to get to the suite, and then I'll be there," I warned her. "And I'm holding you to the full hour of time for me to devote to you."

Her warm palm cupped my cheek, igniting a fire in me as soon as she made it obvious I had her undivided attention. "I don't need five minutes; I'm ready for us to go together."

Hand in hand, we made our way out of the party and to the main house, riding in the elevator to our suite. I couldn't help but smile at how many things in my life had changed, yet some things would no doubt forever remain constant – like her insistence on taking the elevator to the third floor.

Despite a whirlwind romance into a fast elopement to begin our life as husband and wife, what we had always felt so natural to me. I was sure a lot of people had pulled out their calendars when we announced we were having a baby, but our little guy was born after almost a full year of marriage, so he was nearly an anniversary present and in no way justification for why we'd moved so quickly. I knew that even though people had accepted it, very few understood why Stephanie and I had fallen into our life together.

As much as I might want to explain it to them, what we shared defied explanation. There were no words to do justice to how she made me feel. It wasn't because I tended to be quiet by nature – my nickname at RangeMan was no accident – but I had no ability to describe trust and how she had earned mine from the first moment we spent alone together. This woman both accepted me for who I was and challenged me to be better. She loved me unconditionally and demanded the same from me in return. She'd taught me that even without having the right words, there was nothing wrong with my ability to feel, and without me saying a thing, she always understood exactly what I was telling her.

When we walked into the suite, she slammed the door closed and then backed me up against the door. "One hour, Mr. Pertucci."

"It's not nearly long enough," I answered her honestly.

"Then I suggest you zip it and start putting up some action to back up your big talk earlier," she threatened.

I growled in return, lifted her up in my arms to carry her to bed, and spent every second of the next sixty minutes proving I was willing to fully devote myself to worshiping her.

As she pulled her dress back on, she tilted her head in my direction and smiled sweetly at me.

"What's that look for?" I asked, always wanting to learn what was going on in her head.

"For you." She shrugged. "For us."

"You're happy?" I asked, feeling a sudden wave of insecurity that she might regret part of what we had.

When she shook her head no, it did nothing to assuage my concern.

"I'm over the moon, deliriously ecstatic," she clarified, which from where I was standing sounded a lot better than just happy. As I was basking in what felt like the praise of our life together, she brought me down a notch by throwing out, "But if you want a chance to try to top that tonight, I'm more than willing to give you an opportunity."

Returning to the party, hand in hand exactly as we'd left it except for our matching satisfied expressions, I begrudgingly released her when Cal brought Stephan to his mother and pulled her back to talk to the guys.

Pop clapped me on the shoulder and congratulated me once again on the day before ruining the moment by adding, "And based on how you two look, I'm guessing we'll get to do this all again sometime within the year."

He walked away, laughing at his own crude remark, and left me standing alone, overlooking our family and friends. I'd never have pegged this as being a life I'd be comfortable in, but here I was, surrounded by a crazy group of people, celebrating my son's birth. While it might not have been my plan of how my life would turn out, I recognized that I just needed to be grateful that my plan didn't happen so that I could know a richness beyond my wildest dreams.

_A/N: And here we are at the close of another story. Thank you all for reading along, and for sticking with me through to the end. It was fun to make my own version of Zip, and I appreciate your patience while I created a new family for Stephanie to learn to operate in. _

_To Jenny (JenRar) a simple thank you at the top of the page never seems like enough to do justice for the time you spend reading and correcting my chapters. Giving you the title of beta makes it sound as though the work you do is somehow secondary, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. Thank you for your encouragement, your editing and your gentle suggestions. I'm convinced any merit in my stories is attributable to our working on them together._

_And to everyone who read and took the time to leave a review – a huge thank you! Hearing from readers provides the motivation to keep typing so that there is a steady stream of chapters to post. I'm taking my usual head clearing break and I'll be back with something – although I have no idea what it will be yet. I hope you will all come back for another adventure with our favorite bounty hunter. _

_~Jennifer_


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